


Beyond the Sea

by lemonoclefox



Category: BioShock, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Background Maia Roberts/Isabelle Lightwood, Battle Couple, Battle Couple Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Gen, Humor, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Parabatai, Parabatai Feels, Rapture (Bioshock), Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Suspense, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and there's some body horror too i suppose, but not bad enough to tag it imo, i don't write things that don't end happy, i promise things work out in the end, i try to keep things light even in the midst of mortal peril, it's really not that bad it's not a horror story, this story is not meant to make you feel bad, yes there's lots of that too, you know my aversion to unnecessary angst and suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:59:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 59,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonoclefox/pseuds/lemonoclefox
Summary: Rapture ― a splendid city at the bottom of the ocean, isolated and free of the Clave’s restraints, where innovation is put above petty rules.In 1960, Rapture has long since fallen. Its former glory has been reduced to a haunting hellscape where twisted creatures reign, and child-accompanied demons roam the halls. For Alec, it poses a unique challenge ― especially when Jace goes missing, once they arrive in the city on a Clave-mandated mission. In the midst of it all is Magnus, on a mission of his own. Teaming up with Alec comes naturally, and with the help of a sympathetic stranger, they start making their way through the city and the horrors it has to offer. But -- while their friends on the surface work hard on mounting a rescue -- something much more troubling soon becomes clear: getting into Rapture is nowhere near as hard as getting back out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally heeere, the product of a delirious idea I had at 2am several months ago -- namely combining one of my favorite shows with my favorite game. But don't worry, I promise _you **do not** have to have any knowledge of BioShock to read this fic_. It's just a setting for the story, and the story is about Shadowhunters and those characters (there are plenty of references and treats in here for those who do know the game, but this is a sh fic, not a bs one). If you like the vibe of the show, you will probably like the vibe of this fic.
> 
> (Just a few notes before we begin)  
> The plot loosely follows the plot of the game (the first game in the series, that is), so if you've played it, it's safe to say you've got some big spoilers for this fic. If so, please don't put any game-related fic theories in the comments, lest you spoil the story for others. That said, this story is still completely its own thing, and I've taken quite some liberties/put a few twists on the BioShock lore to combine it with that of Shadowhunters. The story will be in four parts, set in the 60s, in a kind of showverse AU. 
> 
> And that's more than enough rambling from me. Please use _#btseafic_ if you feel like yelling about this fic (not bts for the love of god, bc you'll just be tagging kpop, trust me on this)! It's a bit different from what I usually write/post, but I hope you enjoy.

_All good things of this earth flow into the city._

It's the last thing Alec sees, before everything goes wrong, neon letters lighting up in welcome, as the bathysphere carries him and Jace into Rapture. It's the last thing he sees before a loud _boom_ echoes in the distance, a sudden shockwave rippling through the deep sea and hitting their small sub like a giant fist. It's enough to slam the bathysphere against the metal structure tunneling it into the city―and it's more than enough to violently fling both Alec and Jace against the sub's inner walls.

Alec doesn't even realize the impact knocked him out, until he wakes up, god knows how much later.

At first, he finds the lack of bright lights comforting, but the comfort is quickly replaced by fear. He lifts his head, ignores the pounding in his temples, blinking to clear his vision as he pushes himself into sitting position. He can feel textured fabric beneath his fingers, like carpet, and hard metal digging into his shoulder. His neck aches, and a glance behind him tells him he's been half-lying against the blocky seats of the bathysphere for what must be a disconcerting amount of time.

But at least he's alive. He's in one piece. And Jace―

Alec feels a cold weight settle in his gut as he realizes he's alone. Jace isn't here. Aside from Alec, this small, spherical submarine is empty.

 _Shit._ Alec straightens slightly, looks around. Some of the lamps inside the bathysphere have been shattered, resulting in rather dim lighting. Perhaps the damage is from the impact that knocked him out in the first place. At least the sub seems to have made its way into the city, despite the troubles, the tunnel outside no doubt responsible for the thing not barreling through the water when that shockwave hit. The sub's door is open, and the interior is dry.

But Jace is still missing.

Alec slowly gets up from the floor, pulling his seraph blade from its holster. As he stands, the bathysphere rocks slightly, bumping against something surrounding it on the outside, the impact loud in the still silence. Alec takes a deep breath, feels the blade materialize in his hand, the runes glowing ever so slightly. He checks the comforting presence of his bow across his chest, and steps through the door.

The first thing he notices is the dead body on the floor. It only takes a moment to determine that it's a stranger, which brings some relief. But it's still a recent kill. Very recent.

Alec makes his way past the butchered man and slowly moves forward. It's dark out here, but with the greenish light from a tall window ahead, he can tell he's in a large, open space―even if he still can't make out most of it. The sound of his steps is muffled. Behind him, the bathysphere bobs silently in a pool of water, its brass edges gleaming slightly in the sparse light. The sub is completely useless, Alec concludes on second thought, the door cracked and not nearly intact enough to sustain the pressure of the deep sea a second time.

Suddenly, Alec starts to worry that this was a one-way trip.

The sound of scurrying footsteps makes him tense. For a few moments the silence returns, before being broken by the dragging, scraping sound of sharp metal against iron. More silence.

"Is it someone new?" a voice muses, echoing slightly from somewhere unseen. Alec looks up, bracing himself, trying to find the source. There appear to be structures above and around him, but he still can't see the culprit. The one whose voice is hoarse and frail, from old age or screaming or thousands of cigarettes, he can't be sure.

A loud _clang_ makes Alec turn around, and a chill runs across his skin. There's someone sitting on the bathysphere, crouched and bent, eyes on him like a predator. Alec watches her for a moment, the stranger oscillating slowly as she curiously observes the new arrival. There's a humming, Alec notices. A melody, under her breath, the easy sound contrasting sharply with the large, curved hooks held in the stranger's hands.

Alec tightens the grip on his blade. All he can see is the woman's―the _creature's?_ ―dark-stained clothes, her bloodied, deformed face impossible to read.

Alec grits his teeth. Demons and beasts he knows, but he has never seen anything like this before.

A sudden, blood-curdling shriek of rage splits through the silence, as the woman leaps off the bathysphere. She lunges at Alec, who raises his blade, slashing with the weapon as the woman expertly jumps away. She moves fast, Alec notes. _Too fast_. He barely has time to consider it before she comes back, this time from the side, screaming as she furiously swipes at him with her hooks. Alec winces as one grazes his arm. It's only a surface wound, but it's enough to make him stagger, and the woman goes in for another attack.

It's a sudden flash of red and gold that sends the creature reeling, a blast of something like sentient fire and light. With a nasty _crack_ , she hits a nearby wall and falls down, and doesn't move again.

This does not bring Alec any calm. If anything, it puts him more on edge.

"You okay?" an unfamiliar voice says, and Alec whips around. The stranger, a dark silhouette against the window behind him, snaps his fingers, summoning a ball of light to hover over the palm of his hand. It's a gentle blue, different from the angry flash from before.

Alec blinks, eyes adjusting to the light, brighter than that of the window. His head is still pounding, but he chooses to ignore it, instead observes this stranger. He looks nothing like the distorted creature that attacked Alec. He has a handsome face and watchful, bright eyes, lit up by the magical flame in his hand. He even looks somewhat familiar.

"I'm okay," Alec says, in a tone that's anything but friendly. His seraph blade is still raised in front of him, and the man nods slowly. He tilts his head, as though studying Alec.

"Shadowhunter, huh?" he says. "Never thought I'd say this, but what a pleasant surprise."

Alec frowns.

"What does that mean?" he asks, confused. The man doesn't seem to find the question unexpected.

"Well, aside from the sordid history between our respective peoples," he says, "it seems that shadowhunters down here are even less friendly than on the surface. So, seeing one from the surface is, under the circumstances, a pleasant surprise."

Alec blinks, even more confused. Then he glances at the flame in the man's hand.

"You're a warlock," he says, stating the obvious, yet somehow phrasing it as something halfway between a question and an observation.

"Ten points for you," the man says dryly. "Now that that's out of the way, we should maybe leave. There'll surely be more of those coming―" he gestures at the presumably dead creature crumpled on the floor― "and lurking in the dark with a bright light probably isn't helping."

He turns around to leave. Alec hesitates for about a second, before he follows, lowering his blade.

They've barely made it a few steps before a loud groaning of metal echoes through the stale, wet-smelling air, and both Alec and the stranger freeze. They watch as large panels slowly lower on the wall across from the bathysphere, revealing tall windows next to the first one. And through them, the ocean outside. Simultaneously, several lamps flicker to life, slowly dimming up until their strength somewhat mimics that of twilight. Like backup lights, Alec notes, rather than proper ones. It's only then that Alec realizes he's currently on a red-carpeted bridge, leading from the bathysphere to an open waiting area by the windows.

"Well," the warlock says, elegantly snuffing out the ball of light in his hand. "That's unexpected."

Alec throws him a glance. He's still not even remotely at ease, but for now his priority is getting out of here. They keep walking.

Everything around them bears a greenish-blue hue, courtesy of the ocean pressing against the windows. In the dim light, the large, empty space looks almost like a train station terminal―but any furniture is overturned, random objects and suitcases littering the floor. Screens are cracked and full of static, arrival and departure times replaced with _canceled_ , repeated over and over in blinking letters. With the flickering lights and sound of dripping water, the abandoned hall feels more ominous than impressive. But still Alec can't help but wonder what it might have looked like, before. Aside from the mere existence of this place, the Clave knew nothing about it before sending in Alec and Jace.

There is no one around, no one besides Alec and this stranger, and Alec gets the distinct feeling that that isn't a good thing. There are bound to be more creatures like that other one, lurking around. He can't imagine this place came to look like this by accident.

"I'm Magnus, by the way," the man says after a while, and Alec turns to him, as they cross the wrecked hall, side by side. "And you are?"

He meets Alec's eye, and Alec finds himself barely hesitating.

"Alec," he says evenly. Magnus nods.

"Nice to meet you, Alec," he says, turning his gaze straight ahead. "Though I wish it had been under better circumstances."

Alec can't help but agree. Just coming to this place was unusually ill-planned, and his introduction so far has been wholly unexpected. He feels jumpy, unusually exposed. Even the slight crackling of a dying wall-fixture lamp startles him.

"How are you―?" he asks, before cutting himself off. He's not sure how to ask it, how to ask about any of this, if asking this man is even a good, or safe, idea.

"What?" Magnus says patiently, throwing him a glance. There's some smudged black makeup around his eyes, as though it looked impeccable not too long ago, but has since been ruined. Yet something about the way Magnus carries himself makes it look like it's on purpose, much like the rest of his stylish, albeit slightly unkempt attire.

"The thing, back there," Alec says, as Magnus ducks underneath a collapsed doorway. He seems to know where he's going, and Alec sees no tactical point in turning down a guide, for now. "You're not―" He says it a little awkwardly, gesturing.

"Erratic?" Magnus suggests, eyebrows raised as he glances back at Alec, correctly interpreting his question. "Bloodthirsty? Horribly deformed with an equally horrible fashion sense?"

Alec suppresses the impulse to give a surprised laugh at the guy's flippant humor, especially in their current situation. He follows Magnus instead, crouching to make it to the other side of the collapsed, stone doorway. They seem to have reached a staircase, a glowing sign at the top reading, _lounge._

"I was gonna say, a monster," Alec says, and Magnus cocks his head as they make their way up the red-carpeted stairs.

"Some might be inclined to disagree with you," he says with some bitterness, and while Alec understands what he means, he chooses to disregard it.

"I mean, you're not―" He can't help but be cautious; he doesn't know this man, after all. For all he knows, there's some nefarious reason he's so untouched by whatever else seems to have condemned this place. He might even be involved in Jace's disappearance. "Why aren't you like that thing?"

He gestures vaguely back the way they came.

"Maybe because I'm not from around here," Magnus says evenly, and elaborates when he sees Alec's frown. "I haven't been down here long enough to figure much out, only long enough to know what those things are capable of."

He says it tightly, and Alec nods slowly.

"So you don't know what they are?" he asks. Magnus shakes his head.

"From what I can tell," he says carefully, "they've been corrupted, somehow. Infected, by something or other. I don't know what."

Alec nods slowly, makes sure to keep this in mind. He and Jace were sent here for recon only, after all. He turns to Magnus, can't help his suspicion.

"How'd you know where I was?" he asks, unable to mask said suspicion, obvious in his curt tone. "How'd you know to be here?"

Magnus exhales, but doesn't seem too surprised or bothered by Alec's attitude.

"I was looking for an exit," he says evenly. "That terminal is the only one, it seems. It's mostly luck that had me arrive so conveniently."

Alec stops walking, almost at the top of the stairs.

"How'd you get down here, then?" he says, frowning. "There was only one sub."

Magnus sighs as he stops on a higher step, turning and looking down at Alec. The lighting from behind him is warmer than the greenish-blue from before, but it still creates a sharp silhouette of him yet again, here in the dark.

"Portal," Magnus says. "No sub necessary."

"Why?" Alec asks. "How?"

This time, Magnus's mouth curves into a small smile; light, but dangerous.

"That's a lot of questions for someone who just arrived here under equally suspicious circumstances," he says in a tone that matches his expression, as he starts walking again. "For all I know, you're here to help Valentine, and anything I tell you will just further his plans."

"I'd never help him," Alec says sharply, and Magnus's smile widens. That much Alec can see as he follows him to the top step. There's still an edge to the smile, and it puts Alec on guard.

"Then I suppose I know a little more about you, already," Magnus says. Alec watches him for a moment, hesitates.

"How'd you Portal down here?" he asks, can't help the interrogating tone. "We couldn't, because of the wards. I had to―" He pauses, gestures at the vast ocean pressing against the city from above. "Had to Portal to a damn lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, and take that bathysphere down here. It was the only way through."

Magnus hums in acknowledgment.

"Indeed," he says. "Let's just say there was a lot of work involved, and I just barely managed." He gives Alec a pointed look. "As you said, the wards are strong. I can't get past them from the inside, I've tried. Just getting any kind of message out has proven impossible, so far. Even for me."

Alec doesn't reply. He glances up, as Magnus turns back around. The lounge is even nicer than the hall they just left, albeit just as damaged, debris littering the floor. Alec looks around, notices buzzing neon signs advertising something called _plasmids,_ next to what looks like broken-down vending machines. It's odd to the point of unsettling, to see such everyday things in such a dark, extraordinary place, and it makes Alec's brow settle into a tense frown.

Outside the windows ahead, the tall buildings that make up this city light up the ocean around them, the glow of even more neon signs filtering through the water and spilling into this room. Some of the lights are even working in here, mixing the ocean's chill with a pleasant, warm hue.

Alec remembers being torn between impressed and afraid, when Rapture first came into view from the auto-piloted bathysphere he and Jace rode down from the surface. This city is undoubtedly intricate and grand, the art deco buildings large and detailed, the whole thing a feat of architecture unlike anything Alec has ever seen. From the outside, one would never have guessed that the inside was broken.

Alec's attention turns to the only intact door in the room. _Welcome to Rapture,_ it reads above, flanked on either side by large statues of strong, human figures. _Opportunity awaits._

Magnus makes his way toward the door, as though unafraid, or at the very least somewhat certain. Alec watches him move, the way he does it with purpose and ease and fluidity, wine-red velvet jacket hugging his figure. Alec frowns, thinking about Magnus's phrasing of the wards being too strong _even for him_. And there is something familiar about the guy, something authoritative, something―

Alec feels almost embarrassed at his slow realization.

"Wait, you're―" His tone catches the warlock's attention, making him turn around. Spin around, with grace. Alec raises his hand, half-pointing. "Magnus, as in Magnus Bane?"

Magnus's mouth curves into a smile.

"The very same," he says with a gracious nod, as though he's been waiting for Alec to catch on.

"But you're a High Warlock," Alec says with a somewhat confused frown, as he covers the small distance between them. He knows _of_ Magnus Bane, he has to, but he can't recall ever actually meeting him before. "Why are _you_ even here?"

"I have my reasons, Mr. Lightwood," Magnus says. He eyes Alec up and down. "May I ask what brought the de facto head of the New York Institute here? I can't imagine it's for vacation purposes, despite how lovely the bottom of the Atlantic is, this time of year."

Alec quirks a small smile. Of course, Magnus couldn't just reveal he knew who Alec was, from the get-go. It should annoy Alec, but he reluctantly finds it charming.

"Actually," he says, pragmatically deciding to trust Magnus fully now, given his rank and good reputation, "I was sent here on a mission. _We_ were, me and my parabatai. Just recon, for the Clave." He takes a deep breath, hit once again by the reality of the situation. "But we got separated. We came here in that sub, and there was an accident. When I woke up, Jace was gone."

Magnus hums.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, before adding, "Nice to hear the Clave is finally looking into Valentine's misdeeds, though."

"We had no idea it was this bad," Alec says, somewhat defensively. "No one did. No one _does._ All we know is that Valentine is up to something, and that whatever it is, it's starting to spill outside this place."

"Of course, the Clave steps in once things start affecting _them_." Magnus says it under his breath, but Alec catches it. At first he's annoyed, but he must admit that the guy is right.

"Well, what about you?" he retorts. "What are you doing here?"

Magnus gives him a look, as though deliberating. Then he sighs, apparently deciding to give into the question this time, now that Alec has shown him that same courtesy.

"Similar reason as you," he admits. "Though my trip is more of a pure rescue mission." He pauses. "Warlock children have gone missing. Not just in New York, but everywhere, snatched up and vanished. Recently, I found out they were being taken here, to Rapture. So I came here to take them back."

"Alone?"

Magnus quirks a small smile.

"Well, the Clave refused," he says with a certain sharpness in his eyes. "And I'm very capable, I'll have you know."

He sounds almost _teasing_ at the end.

"I don't doubt that," Alec says. Magnus _is_ a High Warlock, after all. "But still. Coming to a place like this, without backup? Doesn't sound like a very smart move."

Magnus raises his eyebrows pointedly, and Alec somewhat sheepishly looks away when he realizes what he just said. He doesn't bother explaining how this was a covert mission, hence requiring minimal personnel and utmost discretion. Not to mention, he and Jace, or the Clave, didn't anticipate the place would be this badly off.

"Well," Magnus continues, "it _was_ supposed to be quick. I Portal here, find the kids, bring them back to the surface. I wasn't expecting it to be so hard to get back _out_ again. Nor was I expecting this place to be warded so extensively that even my powers are somewhat suppressed. It's made it difficult to fend off enemies, let alone free a group of children. Hence my search for more conventional means of escape, as well as my unfortunate, disheveled state." He does a presenting gesture, and Alec makes a point of _not_ paying too much attention to his somewhat eccentric style. Mostly because it suits him incredibly well, disheveled or not. Noting his attractiveness simply isn't a priority at the moment. "Though the bathysphere you came here in isn't exactly equipped for deep sea conditions anymore, by the looks of it."

Alec nods.

"Did you know it was me?" he asks after a moment. "In the bathysphere."

"I did not," Magnus says evenly, and Alec sees no reason why he would lie. "I _was_ expecting a shadowhunter, or rather, a few. I wasn't expecting just one, and definitely not someone of your rank. Which, I'll admit, makes me somewhat confused."

Alec doesn't know how to reply, and Magnus doesn't seem to expect him to. Instead, he turns back around, and makes his way across the rubble, to the closed, only door.

They don't talk much, as they make their way through the tunnel-bridge that lies beyond. It belongs to the network Alec glimpsed from the bathysphere upon his arrival, the one connecting the buildings of the city. He finds himself marveling at the walkway's domed glass ceiling and the views it allows, schools of fish swimming past above his head. He swears he even glimpses a blue whale, in the distance.

While the walkway branches off into different directions with different vault doors, most of them appear damaged―Magnus seems determined to go through one intact door in particular. Alec follows, doesn't see what much else he can do, given the fact that he knows nothing about this place except the obvious; it's an underwater city owned by Valentine and used for his own, various needs. Alec still finds it hard to believe.

As they leave the connecting walkway, it quickly becomes clear that Rapture has been reduced to a damaged, sorry state. Debris and broken stone litters the geometrically-patterned floors and carpets. Pillars, walls, and doorways, all wrecked to some degree, stylish furniture overturned in these public spaces. Sporadic leaks cause tiny waterfalls to gush from the ceilings and run down stairs, leaving puddles of water in their wake, big and small. What little light there is comes mostly from adjoining rooms and hallways, from the buildings outside the windows, from flickering light fixtures on the walls.

Alec uncomfortably notices long-dead citizens littering the floor, or sitting propped up against the walls. Some just bloodied, others deformed―like the one who attacked Alec in the bathysphere terminal.

Along with the intermittent creaking of this particular skyscraper's structure, distant sounds of dripping, hissing, and scraping fill the dank, dim air. There's even music flowing from hidden speakers throughout the halls, low and tinny, mostly happy. Along with the characteristic art deco decor, it creates an interesting effect with all the damage and death.

This place feels not only abandoned, but frozen, in some kind of poisoned, isolated bubble.

"So," Magnus says as they vigilantly make their way through the darkened halls. It's been too long already since they encountered any opposition, in Alec's opinion. "Your parabatai...?"

"Jace," Alec supplies.

"Jace," Magnus says. "What do you think happened to him?"

Alec shakes his head, keeps an eye on their surroundings. They've walked up yet another flight of stairs, and reached a high-ceilinged hall with large banners hanging from above. It looks like little boutiques occupied this area―long since looted and destroyed, of course. There are even large potted plants, somewhat overgrown but placed neatly in rows, and Alec has less trouble believing how splendid this place must have looked, in its prime.

"No idea," he says, prefers not to think about what might have happened to Jace, in all honesty. "Maybe one of those things took him. All I know is he wouldn't leave on his own, not without me."

"There were no traces?" Magnus asks. A clattering noise makes both him and Alec react, but it seems to be a false alarm.

"None that I could see," Alec says. "I can try tracking him through our bond, but―"

"Hey!" The sudden presence of another voice sends a jolt of cold tension through Alec's body, and he instinctively raises his blade. Magnus raises his hand, as though ready to summon whatever magic he might need for a possible altercation. But there's no one in sight. "Shortwave radio," the voice says, after a moment. "Over here."

Alec frowns suspiciously, then spots a radio attached to the wall. He exchanges a look with Magnus, before walking across the rubble and dead leaves on the floor, with some hesitation. He grabs the radio and watches it for a moment, before holding in the talk-button and bringing the device closer his mouth.

"Hello?" he says, feeling a little ridiculous, but he barely has time to give Magnus a shrug before the radio crackles to life.

"There you go," says the voice on the other end, relieved. "I've been trying to reach you. You could do to stay put for just a minute or two, you know. Would have made it easier for me."

Alec just gapes at the radio, the grimy, wireless contraption in his hand. He doesn't recognize the male voice on the other end, and especially not its distinctive, working-class Irish accent.

"Who are you?" Alec asks.

"You can call me Atlas," the man says. Alec frowns, throws Magnus a glance.

"Atlas," he repeats, with some dubiousness, as he makes his way back to Magnus, covering the few feet of space between them. "What do you want from us?"

"To help," Atlas says. "You're not the only ones with people you care about at Valentine's mercy."

Alec meets Magnus's eye. He looks hesitant, suspicious, but he doesn't dissuade Alec from saying or doing anything else. Alec takes this as a good sign.

"How do you know about that?" he says into the radio. There's barely five seconds of silence, before the radio once again crackles to life.

"Forgive me," Atlas says. He sounds almost _sheepish._ "I have access to some of the surveillance systems from here, and I, uh... I overheard your conversation, earlier. I tried to get through to you through the radio in the bathysphere, but it was damaged. I know where you are, I've been following your movements since you arrived."

Alec feels a chill run down his spine at the prospect of being watched, and he glances at Magnus. Magnus looks as surprised and concerned as he feels, but tightens his jaw and carefully looks around the open space. He spots something then, and nods at it. Alec looks over and sees the telltale circle of green dots hidden in the shadows, up in the corner above a doorway. A camera, no doubt. Which means that Atlas―whoever he is―already has a definite advantage over both Alec and Magnus.

"The sentries usually shoot on sight," Atlas explains, apparently seeing Alec look straight into the camera, and at the sentry it's attached to. "I've hacked it, made it stand down. I'd avoid the ones with red lights, though. They're not as friendly."

Alec takes a steadying breath.

"Where are you?" he says into the radio.

"Not close, I'm afraid," Atlas says, a little ruefully. "Far from where you are, at the moment barricaded in a control room over near the Farmer's Market."

"Then how could you help, exactly?" Alec asks. "What good are you if you're on the other side of the city?"

"Like I said," Atlas says. "I have access to some of Rapture's surveillance systems. I can keep track of where Valentine's men are, not to mention Splicers and the like. And as mentioned, I've also managed to hack into some security systems. I might be able to help you along the way, from here. Open otherwise closed doors, as it were. Like the barriers on the windows in the arrival bay," he adds pointedly.

 _Convenient,_ Alec thinks, somewhat suspiciously, recalling how that place just came to life as he and Magnus started leaving. The look he gets from Magnus says he agrees.

"Splicers?" Alec asks, deciding to shelf that suspicion for the moment.

"Those ugly bastards that crawl around this place," Atlas explains. "Some shadowhunters, some mundanes, all monsters. There are some Forsaken too, but Splicers are the ones you should worry about. They're tricky, and a lot more clever."

Alec keeps his eyes on Magnus's, both of them equally unsettled and slightly comforted to have a name for those things.

"Fine," Alec says, sheathing his blade. "You wanna help? What's in it for you?"

When Atlas replies, it's with a heavy sigh.

"My wife and son," he says. "I tried to get them out of this place. I led them as far as Smuggler's Hideout, but they were attacked. My wife is injured. They managed to get inside a bathysphere, but now they're just as trapped as I am. I just want to get to them, and get out of here. That's all."

Alec hesitates a little longer, this time. He makes sure the talk-button isn't held when he turns to Magnus.

"What do you think?" he asks in a low voice, trying not to move his lips too much, lest Atlas can see―if not hear―what he's saying.

"I'm not sure," Magnus says, following Alec's example. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's lying, given the insanity that seems to abound, down here. For all we know, he could lead us into a trap, for whatever reason."

Alec senses something else, and he frowns.

"But?" he says, and Magnus sighs.

"But," he says, "I also wouldn't be surprised if he's telling the truth. Not everyone down here may be a complete monster. Yet. He could just be one of the decent ones. Maybe he does have a family, and maybe they do need our help."

"Maybe he doesn't," Alec says. "And maybe they don't."

"Do you want to risk it?" Magnus asks. It's a neutral question, not charged with guilt or speculation. "He could be a valuable ally."

Alec exhales, looks down at the floor. The damp, debris-filled, cracked floor.

"I don't know," he admits. "I just wanna find Jace, and get out of here."

"Well," Magnus says. "Then I have a proposal." Alec looks back up at him. "We make a deal with this Atlas person, or at least pretend to. He helps us find Jace, and the children. We return the favor, and then use that apparently functional bathysphere of his to get out of here."

Alec nods.

"And if there is no wife and son?" he asks. Magnus gives a minute shrug.

"Then there is no wife and son," he says. "But at least we'll have what we came here for."

Alec takes a deep breath, waits for some other input from Magnus, but it doesn't come. He licks his lips.

"Alright," he says into the radio, glancing up at the camera. "It's a deal."

"Thank you," Atlas says, his tone filled with relief. "Bless you."

"We need to find my brother, first off," Alec says, in no mood for pleasantries.

"Right," Atlas says. "I'll see what I can do. For starters, there are quite a few areas that should really be avoided by anyone who'd prefer to stay ali―"

There's only a split second of metal dragging against the floor to give Alec a heads-up, before Magnus has shoved him to the side and sent a flare of red into the air behind him. Alec drops the radio and turns on the spot, his bow freed and in hand with an arrow nocked, in a matter of moments. All he registers is an oozing, bloody face and heavy breathing, someone running at him at a fast pace, with a dirty lead pipe in the middle of being swung.

As the stranger comes barreling towards them, the first thing Alec notices is that Magnus's attack barely affected the man. _The creature_ , he thinks. It must be another one of those Splicers. Though it moves differently from the first―less erratically, and more like a furious tank, out for blood. It moves just as fast, but without finesse, so before it comes within swinging-range, Alec fires his arrow, hitting the creature in the chest. The sound it makes is disgusting, an angry wail mingled with groaning shouts, seemingly more upset about being hit, than the pain it causes.

It―he―shouts something, the words slurred together and angry, distressed, but Alec doesn't pay attention. Before the Splicer can swing his lead pipe and actually hit something―up close, Alec can see that its red stains are more than just rust―Magnus has fired a bolt of red right in the creature's face.

It stops it dead in its tracks, slumping to the floor with a heavy _thud._ The lead pipe is still gripped tightly in hand, but judging by the slack, empty expression on that mutilated face, the threat has been dealt with. Alec takes a deep breath, glances at Magnus with an appreciative nod, relieved to see that his only ally so far is alright.

His only ally, aside from Atlas, whoever the hell he is.

The thought of it suddenly makes Alec irritated, and he picks up the discarded radio from the floor.

"What happened to watching our backs, _Atlas_?" Alec bites out, and the response is quick.

"I'm not omniscient," Atlas says, a little defensively. "You've seen how they move, I'd barely have time to warn you. Especially if they drop from the ceiling, like some others tend to do. The cameras only cover certain, smaller areas. Had I seen this one coming, you'd have two seconds of warning, at best."

Alec files that information away. It may be useful, knowing there are limits to what those sentries can see―and fire at. Still, it's not a particularly good first impression for this guy to make. Alec takes a breath to say as much, but Magnus stops him with a look.

 _We need him,_ his eyes seem to say, and Alec grits his teeth. He knows he's right. _Damn it._

"Fine," he says into the radio, his voice controlled. "Where to?"

 

The longer they walk, the more Alec comes to realize how big this place really is. As they start making their way to higher ground, up through stairs and the occasional―highly questionable―elevator the city view outside becomes even more impressive. Alec can't imagine ever getting used to seeing a shark suddenly swim past the window, as though Rapture is no more than a bright, artificial intrusion in its home.

"I don't like this," Alec says after a few minutes of silence, as he and Magnus make their way through a wrecked and abandoned bar. There's a half-rotted corpse slumped over the counter, but such sights have already become commonplace in just a matter of hours.

"Really?" Magnus says. "I had no idea. I must have missed the first ten times you said it."

Alec throws him a look. He wants to resent Magnus for talking back at him so easily, but instead he finds himself withdrawing. He sighs.

"Sorry," he says, knowing that Magnus is right. "I just― We've been walking for ages, and all we've seen so far is that swarm of Forsaken in the Wharf. Nothing else, and no Jace."

"And no children," Magnus agrees. "But moving is better than staying still."

Alec nods, winces slightly as a sudden ache flares up in his right leg, just below his knee. Magnus notices, frowns.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," Alec says. He used an iratze earlier to heal the cut that first Splicer made on his arm, as well as soothe his headache. This pain is different. "I think it might be Jace. Something's happened."

"You feel anything else?"

Alec shakes his head.

"No," he says. "But this is good, it means he's alive. I just hope he hasn't done anything stupid."

He reminds himself that this is Jace he's talking about, but decides to pretend his brother is a sensible and non-impulsive person, just for now.

"Gentlemen," Atlas's voice says, startling them both. "I think I may have an idea where to find your friend."

Alec feels a tiny surge of relief, pushing aside his apprehension at Atlas's timing being so on point. It's not like Jace _hasn't_ been Alec's focus before this moment, after all.

He grabs the radio from his holster.

"Where?" Alec asks bluntly. Then he notices the blinking red light on the side of the radio. It wasn't blinking before, and Alec realizes, with some annoyance, that the battery is running low. _Of course, it is._ Why would anything like that be maintained in a place like this? Hell, they're lucky this radio is even usable―they've come across plenty of destroyed ones since they found it.

"He's lurking around Fort Frolic," Atlas says. His voice is drifting in and out with the static, the signal irregular here, at best. "At least, I think it's him on the surveillance cameras. I haven't seen him around here, before. He's not moving much, but he seems alive enough."

"Where the hell's Fort Frolic?" Alec mutters through his relief, for the millionth time wondering how anyone keeps track of where places are down here.

As if to answer his question, Magnus pulls a map from his pocket, one they found a few floors down. He keeps it folded between his middle- and forefinger as he graciously hands it to Alec, who just nods at it. He makes sure not to stare too long at Magnus's hands, as he does. He does have rather nice hands. Miraculously, the black nail varnish is nearly perfectly intact, and his rings look classy, rather than overdone. Alec guesses there's magic involved.

 _Stop noticing his hands._ Alec mentally smacks himself and refocuses, while Magnus unfolds the map. Fort Frolic seems to be an entertainment complex in a separate building, and Alec curses under his breath. It's far, but at least they have somewhere to go. What else are they supposed to do, than trust that Atlas is telling the truth?

"Thanks," Alec says, somewhat reluctantly, into the radio. "We'll head that way. We're gonna shut this thing off, though, don't want the battery dying if we need you."

"Fair," Atlas says. "But a word of caution, friends. Fort Frolic ain't as happy as it sounds. Last I checked, Sander Cohen still runs that place, and he's the nastiest bugger you'll ever meet."

Alec meets Magnus's narrow-eyed gaze.

"What do you mean?" Alec says into the radio. "Who's Sander Cohen?"

"A mundane, calls himself an artist," Atlas says wryly. "Others would call him a creative, dyed-in-the-wool psychopath. Just be careful."

Alec nods, grits his teeth.

"Understood," he says. "We'll check in later."

With that, he turns the radio off.

 

"How many shadowhunters joined him down here?" Magnus asks, making Alec promptly look away from him as they walk side by side. He can't really help watching how Magnus moves―so assuredly despite the obvious danger and the unsafe environment, as though he owns the place. Alec likes that, he decides. It makes him feel safe in a way that has little to nothing to do with strategy or fighting.

"Valentine?" he says. "We're not sure. But along with all the mundanes that have strangely moved away and vanished over the past several years, we're guessing the city has at least ten-thousand people. _Had._ "

Magnus hums.

"Some ambition," he says, eyeing the dilapidated but thoughtfully crafted surroundings, and the sputtering, exposed wires along the walls. "Building a city this big for so few."

"Wasn't really up to him," Alec says, moving slowly. "From what we can tell, the city was already built when he took it over. The guy who built it, Ryan-something..." Alec shakes his head. "His idea was a lot like Valentine's, except from a more mundane perspective. Finished this place in the late forties, with all amenities, ready to live in. But it was never populated. Ryan mysteriously died just before he could make it happen." Alec gives Magnus a pointed glance, before looking back straight ahead. "Then Valentine came in, made it his own, almost like he was waiting for it to be ready for him. And now here we are."

Magnus's expression turns into one of vague disgust.

"Well, his uses for it have been... interesting," he says. "I wonder if he realized what it would turn into."

"You mean, did he realize it would become a nightmare full of Forsaken, corrupted shadowhunters and mutated mundanes?" Alec cocks his head. "I'm guessing no."

"Are you always this sassy, under pressure?" Magnus says after a moment, and Alec quirks a small smile, can't help himself.

"Who says I'm under pressure?" he says.

"I don't know," Magnus says airily. "Maybe you're trying to impress me."

Alec flushes. He glances at Magnus, whose gaze is thankfully directed elsewhere. Never has he heard someone so blatantly throw comments like that at him, not in the way Magnus does it. It sounds almost... _flirty._

"I'm a little busy focusing on the things down here trying to kill us," Alec says.

"Those _things_ used to be human beings," Magnus points out. Alec nods.

"Used to be," he says somberly. "And this is what happens when you put thousands of human beings in an isolated place, with nowhere to go."

"I'd love to disagree with you," Magnus bitterly says. "But I'm afraid I can't."

He eyes a faded poster on the wall, one of several like it they've seen since they arrived. _A man chooses,_ it says, in large, bold letters, with a sketch of Valentine's stern face. _A slave obeys._ Alec recalls hearing theories from the Clave about Valentine's true purpose in creating this place, about how Valentine always spouted angry rhetoric long before he vanished and brought his followers here.

"Sounds like something he'd say," Alec remarks, nodding at the poster as they pause to read it. "From what we know, his aversion to obeying was what made Rapture happen, in the first place."

"A utopia free of the Downworld plight," Magnus says bitterly. "How charming."

Alec watches Magnus's face for a moment, the way his expression hardens as he speaks. It's the sudden urge to make the expression melt away that has Alec turning straight ahead again, to keep walking.

He glances to his side after a few steps, and startles when he notices that Magnus isn't there. He relaxes a moment later, however; Magnus is still in place, watching something else on the wall, a frown on his face.

"What?" Alec asks.

"Have you seen this?" Magnus says, points at something in front of him. Alec moves closer to get a better look, searching the torn, bloodstained wallpaper and broken plaster with his gaze. Then he finds it.

"Is that―?" he starts, but finishing the question is redundant. There's a faded, yellow poster depicting a rough drawing of a dark-haired man, strong and assertive, gazing into the distance. Underneath it, red lettering reads, _Who is Atlas?_

"I suddenly have a lot of questions," Magnus says in a low voice.

"You and me, both." Alec turns to Magnus, who meets his eye. Not for the first time, Alec just really appreciates having Magnus with him down here.

He looks away again.

"We'll make sure to ask him about it," Alec says, eyeing the peeling poster. "I don't trust him, but I don't like going around blind, either. He's our only option, for now."

"Agreed," Magnus says, and again, the fact that he does agree makes Alec feel all the more certain and secure.

"Come on," he says, stepping away from the wall and resuming their route. "We're almost there."

 

They're like cockroaches, Alec thinks, these Splicers. Overly aggressive, overpowered cockroaches, with a penchant for improvised weapons and imaginative ways of using them.

He can guess which ones used to be shadowhunters, and which ones used to be mundanes. While they're all erratic and vicious, yelling profanity as well as seemingly random threats and demands as they attack, some have a distinctly more deliberate feel to them. Like they know what they're doing, like they know where to strike and how Alec intends to move before he does it. Like they've had similar training to his.

They have a slightly harder time with Magnus, whose offensive abilities are less predictable. As a group of several Splicers ambush him and Alec outside what appears to be an apartment complex, the fight quickly gets ugly. But they have a little more insight now into how these things operate―and what kind of damage they can withstand.

"Balcony," Alec says, drawing his bow, and Magnus immediately turns his attention to the ledge on their right. The balcony they're on overlooks a courtyard-like area below, and as Alec looses his arrow and hits an oncoming Splicer in the head, he sees a burst of golden red out of the corner of his eye. The Splicer he spotted climbing over the balcony's ledge falls down, with a nasty shriek, and Alec pulls another arrow from his quiver. _Damn it,_ he's running low.

The way these things crawl on the ceiling and walls is unnatural, limbs contorted and clawlike, long and thin. They're moving too fast, like spiders skittering across a surface, chittering excitedly under their breaths, as though thrilled at the prospect of killing the two intruders in their midst. Alec lets loose his arrow, hitting another Splicer in the head―it's the safest target, and requires the least ammunition. But despite it, and despite falling to the floor, the creature keeps crawling across the splintered wood, like a decapitated chicken. It prompts Magnus to shoot a crackling flame toward it for good measure, and the thing finally stops moving.

But it's not enough.

As though egged on by the fall of its former comrade, a Splicer swings from the ceiling, curved blade in hand, muttering eagerly as he lands on the floor.

"There you go," he says, voice thin and quivering like a violin's string, breathy and full of glee. Like he's trying to calm an animal that's been cornered, sliding back and forth in a quick, zigzag pattern as he moves closer, crouching, weapon raised. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, not gonna hurt ya―"

Alec barely has time to take in its twisted features, half-hidden beneath a white mask, before the Splicer attacks. Alec lowers his bow and uses his free hand to pull his seraph blade from its holster, unceremoniously slashing it across the Splicer's throat. Thankfully, it's enough, and the creature emits a hissing, dying breath, before falling to the floor and going still.

It's only after a few seconds of silence, bow drawn once more and his eyes darting around the large, empty space, that Alec takes a slow, deep breath of relief.

"Looks like that's the last of them," Magnus says. He sounds exhausted, and Alec throws him a concerned glance, before pushing the sentiment aside. Magnus can look after himself.

"For now," Alec agrees, lowering his bow. He takes the unused arrow and puts it back in his quiver, quickly feeling to see how many are left. Four. He can manage with that, especially if he retrieves whatever used arrows are still in okay shape.

Alec takes a moment to take in the appearance of the Splicer on the floor, the last one to fall. The man looks scarred and twisted, lip sliced and curled in a permanent, manic grin. He's wearing a rabbit mask, of all things, cracked and blood-stained, covering the top half of his face. It's a feeble attempt at hiding the grotesquery underneath, and none of it is enough to hide the black rune etched into his skin. It's on his neck, only one of many, and while nothing about this guy looks really human anymore, it saddens Alec to know that he used to be a shadowhunter. A backwards-thinking, Downworld-hating shadowhunter, but still.

How desperate and brainwashed does someone have to be to not only follow Valentine down here, but to willingly turn themselves into _this_?

"Time to check in," Magnus says, breaking Alec out of his thoughts. Alec looks up at him. Magnus's expression is one of apprehensive wariness and suspicion, and Alec nods, sheathing his seraph blade and shouldering his bow. He grabs the radio from his holster and turns it on as they start walking, before looking to Magnus for one last encouraging nod.

"Atlas," Alec says into the radio. It takes no more than a second to get a reply.

"Am I glad to hear from you," Atlas says. He does sound relieved. "I lost sight of you for a bit, there. Any difficulties?"

"We're fine," Alec says stiffly. He hesitates, doesn't want to push this guy. Magnus spares him from it, and takes the radio out of his hand.

"Actually, we couldn't help but notice the posters on the walls," Magnus says lightly, to the point of sarcasm. "Looks like you've got some fans, down here. Care to explain?"

There's a pause, during which Alec and Magnus lock eyes, before Atlas replies.

"I didn't mean to mislead you," he says. "But it's not what it looks like."

"Interesting," Magnus says, as he and Alec start walking.

"You don't understand," Atlas says. "After Jonathan died, this place somehow became even more unhinged, chaos reigned. Someone had to try and speak for the people caught in the middle of it."

Alec frowns, recognizing the name.

"Wait, Jonathan?" he asks, angling the radio towards him while keeping it in Magnus's hand. He very briefly allows himself to note that Magnus's hand is both warmer and smoother than he somehow expected. Not that he's been thinking about it. "Valentine's son?"

"The very same," Atlas confirms, sounding tired and oddly sad. "He's not exactly missed, around here, but he did provide Valentine with some resistance. And while Valentine has come to see me as a threat since his death, I accept now that Rapture is a lost cause, despite my efforts. It's why I planned to leave with my family, but Valentine wouldn't have it, hence the situation we're now in." He pauses. "You two aren't the first I've tried to help, but I'll be damned if you're not the last. I've had enough of this place."

Alec meets Magnus's eye. He looks concerned, unsure, and Alec can't help but mirror it. Their own misgivings aside, however, this could be a good opportunity to collect some more information―Atlas is the best source they've come across, after all.

"What happened?" Alec asks into the radio. "With Jonathan, and Valentine."

A few seconds pass, before the radio crackles back to life.

"Jonathan was..." Atlas starts, sighing. "He didn't like how Valentine was running things, believed that they could do more than just mix all that demon stuff with shadowhunter blood, more than play around with warlock experiments. Not to mention more than just waste their efforts on mundanes. Which failed half the time, as you can see, with all the Forsaken."

Something heavy about Atlas's voice tells Alec that this is something he still feels ashamed of ever being part of, even indirectly. Just by living in this place, contributing to it.

"Jonathan became Valentine's enemy," Atlas continues. "His own son. Their quarrel turned into a civil war, fighting over control of Rapture, and Jonathan eventually had plenty of people on his side. Many of us were caught in the crossfire. And then he died, killed by Valentine's men." There's a pause. "Jonathan was no hero, far from it. All their war did was trap hundreds of us in between. But his death triggered a lot of shite down here, woke a lot of anger that was already beneath the surface. I tried to pick up the pieces, but... You can see how it went."

"Forgive me," Magnus says dryly, "for not sympathizing with someone who moved to a place full of people that want to eradicate my kind."

"I never wanted that," Atlas says, somewhat defensively. "I just wanted safety for my family, for my wife and son. Patrick nearly got his head bitten off by a rogue werewolf once, back home, and the Clave did nothing. You don't understand what that does to a father. I was desperate." Another pause. "Now I'm starting to think that the danger they're in is my punishment for bringing them here, in the first place. I didn't know, I swear it. I've just been trying to set things right. To do right by the people still here, and keep my family safe."

Alec looks down at the floor, nodding slowly. He can respect that, can understand it, despite not agreeing with the methods.

"This place needed someone to lead it, and it fell to me to do so." Atlas sounds so tired, as though disappointed in his lack of success. "I'm not a liberator. Liberators do not exist. These people would liberate themselves. They just... made me into something I wasn't."

Alec hesitates, tries to think of something to say, but Atlas beats him to it.

"Fort Frolic is up ahead," Atlas says, his tone light but in a forced kind of way. "Your brother hasn't moved very far. You should be able to find him."

"Right," Alec says, happy to be off the hook. "Thanks."

"No problem," Atlas assures him, static becoming more pronounced as they make their way through a hallway found on the map. The ceiling is dark and solid-looking here, perhaps it's interfering with the signal. "I'll just be―" The static makes his following words unintelligible.

"Atlas," Alec says, but there's nothing but static when Atlas replies, and Alec sighs. "Okay." He says under his breath, shutting off the radio to conserve the battery. They have no idea how much of it is left, but they're not taking any chances. He turns to Magnus. "Guess we're alone again."

Magnus smiles, a certain lightness to the expression.

"I would have loved to hear that, under different circumstances," he says smoothly, and Alec feels an odd drop in his stomach. It's not a bad feeling. It just takes him by surprise, that's all, and he quirks a small smile in return as he looks straight ahead.

He doesn't admit out loud that he kind of agrees with Magnus's statement.

 

"I got you something," Magnus says cheekily, and Alec frowns, a little impatient. He can feel that Jace must be nearby. His leg aches suddenly at the thought, and he hopes that his brother is okay.

"What's that?" Alec asks, giving Magnus's find a closer look. Magnus gestures at a dead body on the floor, and Alec nods slowly, an exaggerated frown of consideration on his face. "A corpse. You shouldn't have."

Magnus gives him a tired look.

"I was referring to the object _next to_ the corpse _,"_ he says patiently, and as he does, Alec spots it too. He lets out a softly stunned breath, before crouching down and picking up a quiver from a puddle on the floor. It’s soaking wet, stained with blood and demon ichor, but there's still a decent number of arrows inside. He turns to Magnus as he stands back up. 

"Thank you," he says, and Magnus smiles.

"Don't thank me," he says lightly, as Alec eyes the dead body on the floor. Unlike the monsters they've encountered so far, this shadowhunter seems to have died as herself, and died fighting. Somehow that makes Alec sad. "You're only moderately useful with your seraph blade, and now I won't have to watch your back once your arrows run out."

Alec gives him a flat look, but can't help but feel the corner of his mouth tug in a smile, as he takes the undamaged arrows from the quiver and adds them to his own.

"So considerate," he says.

"I try."

Alec discards the now-empty quiver, and gives the dead shadowhunter one last look, before he and Magnus start walking again.

"He should be around here," Magnus says. There's something almost comforting about his tone, and Alec guesses he's noticed Alec's tension the closer to their destination they've gotten. He must admit he appreciates it.

They arrive at a staircase, a large glowing sign at the top. _Welcome to_ _Fort Frolic_ , it reads in golden yellow, and something about just the design fills Alec with a sense of leisure and enjoyment. Which, of course, must be the intention. Judging by the map they found, this used to be where Rapture's citizens would go for a good time. Even from here, Alec can see the bright neon lights and signs marking various shops within, and even a concert hall. He also glimpses crude-looking, white sculptures that bear a distinct resemblance to the masked Splicers of this city, animal ears and all.

They continue past Fort Frolic without going inside; Atlas said he saw Jace nearby, after all, and considering his warning about that deranged artist, going inside doesn't seem like a good idea. Alec glimpses posters on the walls as they leave the stairs and doors behind. They advertise shows and exhibitions, with a face taking up the posters' space along with the words. The face is that of a man, with white theater makeup and red lips, as well as an exaggerated pencil mustache―the name Sander Cohen accompanies it underneath.

It's when they round a certain corner that Alec gets a strange feeling in his gut. Magnus seems to notice, and glances at him.

"What?" he asks, his voice low.

"Not sure," Alec murmurs, but readies his bow, all the same. It's darker here, but Alec knows full well that well-lit doesn't necessarily mean safe, anyway.

There's a pile of debris ahead, and what looks like old, discarded furniture. They walk past it, but the sudden sound of exerted breathing makes Alec whip back around, bow at the ready. Like the ones they've encountered so far, this culprit does stand slightly crouched with bloodied clothes, weapon at the ready―but it only takes a split second for Alec to determine it's not an enemy. He recognizes that blond hair.

"Jace?" he says, voice tight with suspicion and relief. Jace straightens, shock written across his face as he lowers a seraph blade gripped in his hand.

"Alec?" he breathes, as Alec shoulders his bow. "What― What the hell―" He cuts himself off, instead limping over to his parabatai. "You're okay?"

Alec meets him halfway, pulls him into a hug and just closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the utter relief of having found his brother alive.

"I'm okay," Alec says, pulling away from the embrace. "You?"

"A little banged up," Jace says, and as he says it, his knees seem to fold underneath him. Alec holds him up, draping his arm over his own shoulders.

"A little?" Alec says, can't help but sound irritated beneath the worry.

"It's just a broken leg," Jace says, gritting his teeth and hissing in a sharp breath as he tries to stand properly. "I'm fine."

Alec just gapes, baffled, then looks over at Magnus, who shrugs. Alec sighs.

"I can't believe you," he says to Jace, starting to lead them both back over to the corner Jace emerged from, hidden behind the debris and furniture they just passed. It seems like the safest option, for now.

Magnus appears on Jace's other side, putting his other arm over his shoulders for support, and while Alec feels a surge of appreciative warmth for the gesture, Jace just frowns.

"Uh, hi," he says. "Who are you?"

Alec closes his eyes for a moment, summoning patience.

"Jace, Magnus," he says. "Magnus, Jace."

"Magnus," Jace says, almost dubiously, eyes on the warlock. Magnus just smiles, an expression somehow friendly yet simultaneously incredibly patronizing. Alec hates how endearing he finds it.

"Magnus Bane," Magnus clarifies. "High Warlock of Brooklyn. Pleasure."

Jace's expression turns from suspicious to a little more stunned at that.

"High Wa―" he turns to Alec. "Okay, why?"

"Later," Alec says, somehow more tired now than he was a minute ago. Maybe he was driven by sheer determination up until this point, and now that Jace has been found, the exhaustion is starting to catch up with him. "Have you used an iratze?"

"Considering I lost my stele," Jace says, as they help to lower him to the floor to lean against the wall, "no. Doubt it'd do much good, though. It's a broken leg, not a paper cut."

He winces as he tries to settle more comfortably, and Alec is once again aware of that dull ache below his own knee. It's not as bad now as before, but it's there.

"Perhaps I can help," Magnus suggests, and Alec turns to him.

"No," he says, a little too quickly, making both Magnus and Jace give him an odd look. "You―" Alec stumbles for a moment, but recovers. "You've been fighting since you got here, and you said yourself the wards are affecting your magic. You need to save your energy."

Magnus's expression softens slightly, his mouth tugging in something like amusement.

"I appreciate the concern, Alexander," he says, and Alec blinks at the use of his full name. "But I can handle it." Alec doesn't reply this time, just presses his lips together as Magnus sinks down beside Jace. "May I?"

Jace throws Alec a look, getting a nod in response, and gives Magnus the go-ahead.

Alec makes a point of keeping an eye on their surroundings, bow at the ready, but he still can't help glancing over as Magnus begins. There's a warm-looking, blue vapor over Jace's wound, enveloping it and ghosting over his right leg as though feeling out for any damage. His pant leg is torn and there's a bit of blood, but Magnus's treatment doesn't seem painful; Jace appears more fascinated, than anything. Alec looks at Magnus then, whose expression is one of focus, but he seems to be doing okay.

 _Good,_ Alec thinks, turning back to the empty area around them. Magnus is a good ally to have, and Alec would hate if anything were to happen to him. That's all it is.

"What happened?" he asks Jace, throwing him only a glance. "Back at the bathysphere."

Jace shakes his head.

"No idea," he says. "I got knocked out, woke up and someone was carrying me. Some _thing._ Then there was a fight, I― I barely remember any of it. But I got away somehow, just kept running. Had to grab this off of a dead guy," he says, gesturing at the seraph blade now resting on the floor next to him. "Whoever took me also took my stele, and my weapons. They must have dosed me with something too, 'cause it took hours before I could really get anywhere without collapsing. Then I ended up in there."

He nods in the direction of Fort Frolic.

"Thought there might be people there," Jace says, wincing as Magnus's magic starts stitching his bones back together in earnest. " _Actual_ people. And I was right. Not the kind of people I was hoping for, though."

Alec thinks of Fort Frolic's eerily bright and happy-looking design, boasting such life and revelry with not a single living person in sight. Like a trap.

"We were warned about some guy there," Alec says carefully. "Sander Cohen."

"The guy who looks like a fucking mime?" Jace says. "That's the one. Complete lunatic. I don't know if you saw his statues?"

He says it almost sardonically, and Alec brings to mind the sloppily sculpted figures of plaster he and Magnus saw on the way here.

"What about them?" he asks.

"They're people," Jace says, and Alec swears he both looks and sounds afraid, beneath that perpetual confidence of his. "They're all made of people. That's his thing, apparently. He likes turning people into art, any way he can. Likes to just straight-up kill them too, when they don't cooperate." He turns to watch Magnus's magic, and Alec notes that Magnus looks tired now, but still alright. "He wanted me for his collection, he said. That's how I broke my leg, running and fighting and getting pushed off a damn balcony. He sent some of those mutant things after me, but I took care of them. I hid here, just meant to sit tight for a minute, catch my breath. But then, yeah―" He gestures at his leg pointlessly. "At least they haven't found me."

Alec supposes that what Jace described would be enough to cause serious injury even to a shadowhunter, if they're missing a stele. He knows Jace is tough, knows that he can take more than most people can handle, especially given his past. But still, he places a hand on Jace's head, ruffles his blond hair just slightly. He feels a bit silly doing it, and Jace would scoff and slap his hand away with some comment, under any other circumstances, especially with a stranger sitting right there. But these aren't any circumstances, and they're both too relieved to have each other safe and sound to care.

By the time Magnus is done healing Jace's leg, he practically sags where he sits, letting out a heavy, sharp exhale as the blue vapor dissipates. Alec makes a move to check on him, to help him up, but refrains.

"You okay?" he asks instead, unable to keep the genuine concern out of his voice.

"Quite alright," Magnus assures him, smiling slightly even as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "I just need a moment. More importantly, how's your leg?"

He directs the question at Jace, who experimentally puts his boot against the floor, applying some pressure and bending his joints.

"Hurts a little bit," he says. "But I think it's okay. Should be fine to walk."

Magnus nods, pleased to hear it.

"Good," he says. He heaves himself up in a way that looks less graceful than Alec has gotten used to seeing from him, and he has barely stood up before he wavers. Instantly, Alec grabs him by the shoulder, steadying him as he stands up tall.

"You sure you're okay?" he asks. _Damn it,_ since when does he fuss like this? He doesn't even know this guy, not really.

"I'm fine, Alec," Magnus says, turning to him. Alec is a little startled by how close he is, but he decides to ignore that―especially when he sees Magnus's tired, but fondly exasperated expression. Alec nods, swallows.

"Right," he says, releasing Magnus's shoulder and taking a step back. He holds his gaze for another few moments, Magnus undoubtedly less fine than he says he is. Still, Alec respects his wish to pretend otherwise, for now.

"Yeah, I'm fine, too," Jace says from the floor. "Thanks."

Alec inhales, turns to him. Jace narrows his eyes, as though asking something, but Alec doesn't answer. Instead he holds out his hand, which Jace takes and uses to pull himself off the floor, picking up the seraph blade as he goes.

"We should really get moving," Jace says. "Doesn't look like Cohen or his pets like to leave Fort Frolic unless they have to, but still."

"The Splicers?" Magnus asks, as the three of them start walking away from the corner by the stairs. "He controls them?"

"That's what they're called?" Jace says. "Huh. And yeah, looks like. Don't know how, though." He pauses, turns to Magnus, slight suspicion in his eyes. Alec recognizes it as a milder form of what he felt when he first met Magnus, down here. "So what's Magnus Bane doing here?"

Magnus throws Alec a look, but it's brief, in a way that makes Alec think he meant to ask something but then decided against it.

"I'm looking for warlock children who've been taken," Magnus says bluntly. "I have no doubt they've somehow ended up here."

"Wait, children?" Jace frowns. "Like, young ones?"

Magnus frowns as well.

"Yes," he says apprehensively.

"I might have seen them," Jace says, making Alec glance at him in surprise. "Or, one."

"What are you talking about?" Magnus's voice takes on a sense of urgency, and Alec can't blame him.

"Well, you know the... _thing_ that was carrying me, when I woke up?" Jace says. "There was a kid there, too. A girl, couldn't have been older than eight. I was pretty out of it, but I do remember thinking how weird it was. How weird _she_ was."

"Weird, how?"

Jace frowns, shaking his head as he tries to remember.

"I don't know," he says. "She had a ponytail, a blue dress. But she was really pale, and her eyes were glowing. And she didn't seem scared at all." He glances around the hallway they've found their way into, and catches on something in particular. "She looked kind of like that, actually."

He points at something by the wall, a vending machine of some kind, with a gentle, fluorescent glow. It's flanked on either side by statues depicting small girls with pale blue dresses. They look more like life-sized dolls, their smiles big and bright, but they actually look subdued compared to the round, pink neon sign above; _Gatherer's Garden._

"Man, these creep me out," Jace says as they all stop to take a closer look.

A sign on the wall helpfully points to the machine, the word _Plasmids_ glowing in only slightly more subdued letters. Alec remembers seeing something just like this in the lounge outside the bathysphere terminal, when he first arrived.

"What the hell _is_ a Plasmid, anyway?" Alec wonders out loud, frowning, eyeing the red-colored bottles and syringes behind the glass. Jace shrugs, and Magnus shakes his head.

"Not sure," he says, reading the different names and options listed― _electro bolt, telekinesis, winter blast,_ just to name a few. "But there seems to be a variety to choose from. Different abilities for different tastes."

"What, like― Like powers?" Jace says, disbelief coloring his tone. "Just injecting them? Is that even possible?"

"I suppose you could use a spell, or a potion," Magnus muses. "It's risky, but it might be enough to grant mundanes, and even Nephilim, some temporary abilities like those of a warlock, for instance. But anything more long-term, or permanent?" He shakes his head. "Not possible."

"Hypothetically possible?" Alec asks, and Magnus hesitates.

"You'd have to essentially rewrite a person's DNA to make it accommodate something so unnatural," he says, gesturing with his hands. Just the idea seems to make him uncomfortable. "It's not a good idea. It's wildly unpredictable, and it would kill you. Most likely."

"And less likely?"

Magnus turns to Alec, a grim look on his face.

"It would work," he admits. "With the right modifications. But you'd become damaged, over time. You'd change. Probably into something like the Splicers we've seen."

He says it pointedly, and Alec nods slowly.

"At least we know why they're called that, then," Jace says, and Alec feels more disgusted than intrigued about that revelation. "So, basically they're... not shadowhunters, anymore? Or human?"

Magnus shakes his head, his expression almost sad.

"No," he says. "I don't believe so. Given the demonic energy required to make it happen in the first place, not to mention the addictive nature and long-term use... It's not something that's reversible. Those poor creatures are stuck like that. Anything that made them human has been corrupted beyond repair. My guess is all they can even think about anymore is the drug. It affects the mind as much as the body. They must be horribly dependent on it, at this stage."

Alec wants to feel bad about this, but he can't bring himself to. Sure, there must be people who came here genuinely looking for a better life―like Atlas's family―and he can't imagine what Rapture must have been like when it all started falling apart. But then he thinks about the Splicers and the Forsaken, even the humans left in a human state, and what they've all turned themselves into... Alec has a hard time sympathizing with any of them.

"Come on," he says, stepping away from the vending machine. "We gotta move."

They resume heading down the darkened, debris-littered hallway. There's a leak up ahead, water gushing from the ceiling―it would be a beautiful curtain, had it been anywhere but in an underwater building. Here, all it does is act as a stark reminder of just how little stands between the pressing ocean outside and the comparably fragile people in here.

Alec throws Jace a glance. He would be lying if he said having him by his side again doesn't make him feel ten times better than he did. Sure, they're still stuck here, and Alec gets the sense that it will only become more dangerous the further along they get, but for the moment, he takes this victory. Jace is safe, Magnus is safe, and that's all that matters.

"I suppose I'll give them points for creativity with those masks," Magnus says, as they pass by a couple of dead Splicers on the floor. It's a man and a woman, wearing the white half-face coverage of a cat and a rabbit, respectively.

"From what I can tell," Jace says, "there was a party when the riots broke out. The ones that finally wrecked this place, I mean."

Magnus throws Jace a flat look.

"A party?" he says. "As much as I can respect going out like that, I find it hard to believe."

Jace points at a faded, dirty poster on the wall as they pass it by, which depicts a white, patterned rabbit mask surrounded by confetti. _Rapture Masquerade Ball 1959_ , it reads. Alec wouldn't even have noticed the poster if Jace hadn't pointed it out, considering how the dim lighting and torn paper make it blend in so easily. And given all the other graffiti and faded propaganda around the city, it doesn't exactly stand out. Now that he pays attention, though, there are plenty of this poster in particular plastered over the walls here around Fort Frolic.

"Really," Jace says, his tone turning unsettled and somewhat disgusted. "Cohen talked about it _fondly_. Like it was the good old days. And makes sense, I guess. I mean, a big bash, everyone who means something is there? Great time and place to start an uprising, if you ask me. And those... Splicers. They aren't exactly all there, but most of them seem to think this place is still up and running as usual, even though it's definitely not. Maybe they just wear the masks to hide, or they just never took them off. I mean, they look pretty damn gross, underneath."

 _Clinging to their humanity, maybe,_ Alec thinks, and he eyes the poster more closely as he walks by. The ball is set for new year's eve, 1958, and he frowns.

"That was almost two years ago," he says. He turns to Jace as they keep walking. "It's been like this for that long?"

"Apparently even longer," Jace says with a shrug. "The riots were just the tipping point. But it looks like people were becoming monsters and killing each other over nothing, way before that. That's all I know."

Alec pauses, processes this.

"How did we not know about this?" he says, mostly thinking out loud, and he can't help the hopeless disbelief shining through. He gets a soft, sympathetic look from Magnus, before the warlock quickly looks away.

"Because Valentine has obviously done his best to make sure no one gets into Rapture," Jace says. "Or even knows about it. But judging by what this place is like, he's done an even better job of making sure no one, and nothing, gets out." He pauses. "We shouldn't have come here, Alec."

Alec shakes his head.

"No, we shouldn't have."

Magnus stops dead, and Alec immediately stops with him. He opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, but Magnus brings a finger to his own lips in a shushing gesture. His expression has turned tense, attentive, and Alec throws Jace a glance.

A low, chittering sound catches their attention then, and they look up. Alec watches the ceiling intently, listening, the ever-present creaking and groaning of the city's metal structures mingling together with the constant dripping and flowing water around them. Perhaps it was a false alarm. Then, some plaster falls from the ceiling near the other side of the hall, and Magnus pulls his shoulders back.

"Just a suggestion," Magnus says quietly. "But maybe we should head somewhere less open?"

He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, but whatever made the noise seems to have scurried off. All the same, Jace raises his blade, runes lighting up obligingly.

"Good idea," he says, and the three of them start moving again, a little faster now than before.

They don't get far before Magnus throws his arm out to block the shadowhunters' path.

"Wait," he says. Alec registers a slight ripple in the air ahead, it's all the warning they get.

A man suddenly comes charging at them, as though materializing out of nowhere. Flames seem to flow from his flesh, and as a fire ball comes shooting towards them, Magnus instinctively raises his hand, magic erupting from his palm like a shield. But as the flames are dealt with, the creature is no longer there. Instead, there's a loud, vacuum-like noise, leaving behind nothing but a wisp of black smoke and a foul smell.

"Where'd he go?" Jace says, speaking for all of them, and Alec draws his bow, keeping his breathing steady. He turns around, his back to Magnus's, while Jace mirrors him in order to keep their attention on all sides.

"Don't know," Magnus says tensely. "But spontaneous teleportation is a rather unique skill one doesn't see very often."

Jace scoffs.

"Considering what I've seen down here, already," he says ruefully. "I'm not surprised."

A loud _whoosh_ draws Magnus's attention to the left. The Splicer is suddenly so close Alec can't even make out his features. It's all just bloodied and burned, mouth stretched wide in a pained, rasping scream, arms alight with hot flames as he reaches for him. The chill of fear down Alec's spine is controlled in a split second, and he raises his bow, loosing an arrow. The Splicer screams, before vanishing with that same loud noise from before, leaving the air still and foul-smelling once again.

"What are the odds he'll show up on your side, next time?" Alec asks Jace, somewhat dryly, pulling another arrow from his quiver.

"I'd say, high," Jace replies.

He's proven right only a few moments later, when the Splicer reappears out of thin air and Jace slashes at him with his blade, prompting him to vanish once more. Alec barely has a second to consider where he might materialize next, before the telltale _whoosh_ makes him turn his head. The Splicer gapes wide as he screams, heading toward them at an unsettling speed, and Alec makes what he knows might be a bad move. He turns on the spot and fires an arrow that buries itself in the Splicer's head, before he lets himself stop to think.

He's lucky―the Splicer stops in his tracks and falls to the floor, the flames from his flesh slowly dying out as their host's heart stops beating. Alec draws a breath of relief, feels every muscle in his body uncoil. He didn't realize how terrified he was, not just for himself but for his companions. Both of them.

Magnus turns to him, meets his eye as Alec lowers his bow.

"Thanks," he says, and Alec swallows.

"Yeah," he says stupidly, stepping away from Magnus, Jace following suit. Alec holds Magnus's gaze for a little while longer, suddenly finding it hard to look away. Then he blinks, and looks away anyway. "Let's keep moving."

 

* * *

 

Isabelle knows that something is wrong. She's had a bad feeling about this whole thing ever since her brothers left, and she tries to keep it under control as she makes her way through the halls of the New York Institute. Alec should be here, running it. But he refused to let Jace go to Rapture alone, to let him descend into whatever that city is, without the support of his parabatai. And sending anyone _but_ Jace seemed out of the question as far as the Clave was concerned; he is their best and brightest, after all. And this whole thing _does_ concern Valentine, who's been in the wind for nearly a decade.

But even so, something doesn't feel right. It's been too long already, since Jace and Alec left. Too long since they departed New York by Portal, and no word yet, no fire message, nothing. Izzy doesn't care how under-wraps this recon mission is, they should have heard something by now.

"Why haven't they reported back?" Izzy asks as she approaches her mother, talking to someone in the op center.

"Isabelle―" Maryse starts, in a low voice that's asking her daughter to calm down.

"It's been almost ten hours," Izzy points out, unable to keep some anger out of her voice. "And no word. Something is wrong."

Maryse presses her lips together, but seems to decide that there's no use in trying to make Izzy relent. She turns to the shadowhunter next to her.

"Excuse me," she says, and the man gives her a nod, closing the folder in his hands before walking away. Maryse turns back to her daughter. "Lower your voice."

"Why?" Izzy says. "Am I embarrassing you?"

Maryse bites back some frustration, taking her daughter's upper arm and leading her into a nearby hallway. Her grip isn't tight by any means, mostly a way of guiding Isabelle as she goes. This hall is abandoned compared to the op center, but Maryse still looks around before turning back to Izzy.

"Calm down," she says. "Everything is fine."

Izzy frowns, confused.

"Really?" she says doubtfully. "Because as far as I can tell, you sent your sons down there on their own, and now they're stuck for all we know. Or worse. They barely knew what they were going into to begin with, and I knew even less. And even now, no one will tell me anything."

Maryse sighs, puts her hands on her hips. The concern on her face looks more maternal than a moment ago, and Izzy realizes that her mother is just as worried as she is. Perhaps that's what makes her open up and tell Izzy what she knows.

"We've been gathering intel on Rapture for weeks," she explains in a lower voice. "We only recently found out it even existed, let alone where. But Valentine has been running it for years, already. Some believe it really is just his own personal domain, but given the disturbances and disappearances more recently, others aren't so sure."

"What does that mean?" Izzy says, folding her arms. Maryse's jaw tightens, and there's obvious concern in her expression.

"I don't know," she admits in a low voice.

"What kind of disappearances?" Izzy presses. "I thought it was just shadowhunters, voluntarily going with him?"

"Mundanes, as well," Maryse says. "By the looks of it. And others have reportedly been taken, but―"

"Taken?" Izzy frowns.

"It's not important."

"Tell me."

"We've had reports of warlocks going missing," Maryse says dismissively, with some impatience, "but to tie those disappearances to Rapture is more than a little unreasonable."

"But someone has?"

"Isabelle, it's―"

"Who?"

Maryse sighs. The expression on her face is one of weary concern, along with frustration at her daughter's inability to let things go. But Isabelle wants to know everything the Clave does about this place her brothers have been sent to. It won't help in any way, but she can't just sit here in the dark.

"The High Warlock of Brooklyn," Maryse says tightly. "He petitioned the Clave to allow a rescue mission on behalf of the warlocks. He claimed that they'd found solid proof of Valentine, and Rapture, being involved in the disappearances. But it was circumstantial, at best. We can't afford to risk shadowhunters' lives for something so vague. A recon mission was all Jace and Alec were authorized for, we couldn't just have a Downworlder tag along for his own purposes, and risk everything."

She sounds almost defensive, and Izzy frowns.

"So you rejected him?" she asks.

"What's important right now," Maryse says, putting her hands on Izzy's upper arms, "is to make sure Jace and Alec make it home. We're looking into ways of getting through Rapture's wards, but it's not easy. It's why the High Warlock asked the Clave in the first place, even he had trouble, and knew we had another way in."

"So how did Alec and Jace get down there?" Izzy asks, her frown still in place.

"We were provided with coordinates to a lighthouse," Maryse says. "The legitimate route into the city went from there, but only once." Someone calls for her from the op center, and she glances over there, before turning back to her daughter. "Isabelle, listen to me. I know you're worried, but we're working on it, alright? And your brothers are the best we have, and they have each other. They'll be fine."

Izzy presses her lips together. She doesn't quite believe Maryse, but it's hard not to be affected by those words said in such a motherly, confident tone. She nods, and Maryse gives her a small, relieved smile. She squeezes Izzy's arm gently, before letting go and making her way back into the op center.

Izzy turns around, watching her go. She thinks about what her mother just told her, about the wards and the missing warlocks, about the High Warlock petitioning the Clave to help. It all seems a little too related to be _circumstantial_.

She knows who the High Warlock of Brooklyn is; Magnus Bane is a hard person to miss, in the shadow world. Maybe he'll have learned something since he spoke to the Clave. Maybe enough to actually get into Rapture, at the very least.

Isabelle turns her back on the op center, heading for the Institute's front doors, a new sense of purpose in her step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you go. I hope you enjoyed the beginnings of this self-indulgent mess, because I really do enjoy writing it. Part 2 will be from Magnus's POV, and there's lots more stuff to come, so stay tuned.
> 
> Visit me on [the twitters](https://twitter.com/lemonoclefox) and please yell at me if you want to, using _#btseafic_. Also, writing stuff while irl adulting can be hard work, so if you feel like helping me out, check out [my tumblr](http://lemonoclefox.tumblr.com/bts) ( _#btseafic_ works there, too) and maybe treat me to a cup of coffee through the button I've got there?  <3 Thanks


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely feedback on this fic, I really am having fun writing it. Combining these two worlds has been a joy to attempt (and hopefully succeed at), and I'm glad it's been fun to read. So here's part 2! The plot is thickening, and plenty of (more or less life-threatening) shenanigans ensue. Enjoy!

Isabelle still isn't quite sure what she's doing here. What is she expecting to come of this, if anything? Still, she knocks on the door to Magnus Bane's penthouse, trying to think of ways to convince him to help her once he opens the door.

Except he's not the one who opens the door.

The man across the threshold looks momentarily hopeful as he lays eyes on her, before his expression falls, settling into one so dour it's almost funny.

"Oh," he says flatly. "Can I help you?"

He sounds anything but helpful. Izzy makes sure not to stare at the horns curving out of his forehead, instead focusing on the man's slightly narrowed eyes.

"I'm looking for Magnus Bane," she says, and the man sighs, as though suddenly exhausted.

"Well, he's not here," he says. "Feel free to try again, next week."

He starts closing the door, but Izzy, never one to give up easily, holds it open with her hand.

"It's important," she says.

"Isn't it always, with you people?" the man says, pushing the door a little more insistently.

"I mean it," Izzy says, but it comes out pleading rather than firm, before she blurts, "I need to get into Rapture."

The man stops. Izzy patiently waits as he slowly pulls the door back open, and eyes her up and down, eyes even more narrowed than before.

"Come on, then," he says curtly, before turning around and heading into the apartment. Izzy, though slightly surprised, exhales in relief as she follows, closing the door behind her.

She has never actually been in Magnus Bane's home before, but somehow it looks exactly like she'd imagine; expensive, eclectic, yet incredibly stylish. She makes her way into the lounge, where she finds the man who let her in, currently stirring a dainty cup in his hands.

"Tea?" he asks. "There's also whiskey, if you prefer."

Izzy shakes her head, suddenly somewhat suspicious, while the man keeps stirring his own tea, unbothered.

"Where's Magnus Bane?" Izzy asks, and the man sighs, taking a seat on one of the couches in the room.

"The answer to that," he says, "is related to the reason you're here, I'm afraid. And until he returns, you'll have to deal with me. The name's Ragnor Fell."

Izzy nods slowly; she's heard of Ragnor Fell. An old warlock who generally stays on his home turf in Britain, particularly asocial yet a close friend of Magnus's, from what she knows.

"Isabelle Lightwood," she says, and Ragnor's eyebrows go up slightly, but he doesn't comment on it.

"Well, Isabelle Lightwood," he says instead. "What brings you here? And more importantly, why so adamant to get into a heavily warded underwater city?"

Izzy hesitates, unsure of how much to tell this guy. Then she goes over her options, and concludes that since the man she came to see isn't here, she should reasonably be able to trust that man's closest friend.

"My brothers were sent there on a recon mission," she says, slowly starting to pace, the soft carpet on the floor muffling the sound of her high heels. "They should have sent word by now, but there's been nothing. I heard Magnus petitioned the Clave to go along with them, but was denied." She shrugs helplessly, realizes how vague her own reasons for coming here sound, when said out loud. "I thought he might have learned something new about getting into the city. I thought he might be able to help, because the Clave has no idea. So I came here."

When she turns to Ragnor, his shrewd eyes are on her, his expression pensive and somewhat tense.

"Well," he eventually says, as though making the decision to trust her, too. He looks down into his tea cup. "I'm afraid he can't help you. It seems Magnus may be stuck in Rapture, as well."

Izzy frowns.

"What are you talking about?"

"We managed to pierce through the city wards," Ragnor says with a tired sigh, rubbing his temple. "Just barely, mind you. It required both of us, and only one could be sent through the Portal we were able to create. It took a lot out of me, I spent hours bedridden, once it was done." He pauses. "Magnus is quite powerful, however, and didn't have to hold the Portal open, like me. I should think he's recovered nicely, by now."

"So it's possible to get through?" Izzy says, unable to keep the hope of her voice.

"I said, _barely_ ," Ragnor says, looking up with some annoyance. "If it requires two warlocks of our ability to make it happen, what makes you think it's something one simply _does_? The spell alone was risky, it's why it was a last resort. Doing it the first time was bad enough, doing it again would be unbelievably stupid. There's no guarantee of success. Even if I could, I'd never ask another warlock to risk themselves doing it."

Izzy pauses, Ragnor's words sinking in. They must really have been desperate, if what he says is true.

"If you knew the wards were so strong," Izzy says, "why go in the first place?"

"The plan was for Magnus to find the source and disable the wards from within," Ragnor explains. "Find the missing children and bring them home."

"But you haven't heard from him," Izzy says. It's a statement, not a question, and the way Ragnor presses his lips together tells her she's right.

"It's most unusual," Ragnor admits. "If I couldn't still sense an inkling of his magic, I'd be convinced he's dead. As it is, the most reasonable assumption is that something is keeping him from disabling the wards. Keeping him trapped, and unable to relay a message."

Izzy nods, folding her arms and taking in this new information. If even someone like Magnus is stuck down there, it's no wonder she hasn't heard anything from her brothers. Ragnor clearly isn't about to attempt another Portal, and according to Izzy's mother, the only safe and proper way into the city was the submarine Alec and Jace used to get there.

In other words, actually getting into Rapture with reinforcements, or for a rescue mission, is a lost cause.

"Is there a way we could send a message _into_ the city?" Izzy asks, and Ragnor gives her a flat, slightly dubious look.

" _We_?" he asks. Izzy puts on a confident expression.

"Well, can't do much on our own, can we?" she says. "The Clave still has no way to get through, and apparently you do, but can't use it. So let's find something. Maybe if you work from here, and Magnus works from in there, you can break through. Maybe send a message, let him know what to do―I don't know."

She stops herself before she says too much; she knows next to nothing about how spells and wards of this magnitude work, and she's not sure any of this is even doable. All the same, Ragnor watches her for several seconds, seems to consider the suggestion as he sips his tea. Then he sighs, eyebrows raised in an oddly bored expression.

"I suppose that's sound reasoning," he admits, as though talking to himself, looking down as he gently places his tea cup on the coffee table. He gets up from the couch, looks at Izzy, who does her best to hide her surprise and not simply being dismissed. "Well then, my dear. Shall we get started?"

 

* * *

 

The tunnels that connect the buildings of Rapture aren't any less impressive the second, third, or fourth time around. Magnus still finds himself marveling at the view, glass above and on the sides, kelp swaying like small forests on the ocean floor and contrasting with the modern intrusion of skyscrapers and neon lights.

"So there _is_ a way out of here?" Jace asks. As they've been moving along―his leg thankfully not causing any problems―Alec and Magnus have filled him in on their situation so far.

"Yes," Alec says. The tunnels seem relatively free of Splicers and Forsaken, but he's still vigilant. "We just need to find those kids, and then get to the sub."

Jace nods.

"We should probably check in with Atlas, too," Magnus suggests. "Once we get a better signal."

"Who?" Jace asks, frowning.

"It's this guy who's been helping us get around," Alec says neutrally, pausing as they reach a fork where the tunnel divides into two.

"At a distance," Magnus clarifies. "Over that radio."

He gestures at said radio attached to Alec's holster, and Jace nods slowly.

"And we can trust him?" he asks. The suspicion is clear in his voice, and Magnus can't help but understand.

"'Trust' might be a strong word," Magnus says, gesturing to the left and both Alec and Jace following; he remembers the route from the map. "There's definitely more we _don't_ know about him than we know. But I'll admit he has been rather forthcoming with whatever questions we've had."

"He helped us find you," Alec says, throwing Jace a glance.

Jace blinks in surprise, but then makes a sound of understanding.

"Guess that makes more sense than you guys just tripping over me by accident," he says. He looks over his shoulder at the echoing sound of creaking and groaning metal, but relaxes when there's nothing there. Even the city itself sounds ominous, at times. "If he's been helping you out, I suppose he can't be that bad."

"He hasn't failed us, so far _,_ " Magnus admits, somewhat reluctantly. "Without him, we wouldn't have known where to go, short of Alec tracking you through your rune."

He and Alec share a look. It hasn't actually come up, but Magnus knows Alec must have thought of it. Despite being virtually strangers, Magnus never would have let him put himself at risk like that under these conditions, and Alec knows it.

"It occurred to me, too," Jace says, a hint of something like guilt seeping into his voice. "But I could barely stay on my feet, let alone parabatai track on my own."

"Doesn't matter now," Alec assures him. "We found you, that's it."

His tone is firm and final, yet somehow soft, and it's enough to make Jace's expression relax into one of calm. Magnus can't help but be strangely moved by it. Despite their bickering, it's obvious that Jace and Alec care deeply about each other.

After passing through the heavy vault doors at the end of the tunnel, and tightly sealing them shut, the three of them take a moment to get their bearings. They seem to be on the right track. Alec turns the radio back on.

"Atlas," he says, and the reply is almost immediate.

"Good to hear from you, gentlemen," Atlas says, and Magnus must admit that hearing that Irish accent has gotten both familiar and oddly comforting in just a matter of hours. "I assume that's your brother with ya?"

For a second, Jace looks around as though trying to see a camera, but then seems to realize that there have been plenty of cameras for Atlas to have access to since Alec and Magnus found him. He must have glimpsed the three together several times, already.

"Yeah," Alec says, as they keep walking. There's nothing special about this particular space they turn a corner into―it's just large and open, dark aside from a lone chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling. It's flickering, the power in some parts of the city clearly unreliable, at best. "Just checking in, wanted to―"

The sudden sound of rapid gunfire rings through the room at the same time as Jace yanks his parabatai back by the shoulder. The three of them immediately fall back around the corner they just turned, pressing their backs against the wall, breathing quick and stunned. Magnus expects more gunfire, but none comes, and he turns to Alec.

"You almost got shot," he says, not meaning to say it out loud. At least it doesn't sound as worried as Magnus actually feels. _Alec almost got shot._

"We all almost got shot," Alec says, but his collected calm sounds not entirely real, something Jace notices too, judging by the way he smacks Alec's chest with his hand. Magnus draws a relieved breath, all the same. With all the monsters and wards and magic in this place, somehow he simply wasn't expecting _guns._

"What was that?" Atlas asks, and Alec looks down at the radio still in his hand. He must have held the talk button in as the shots went off, and Atlas heard. He sounds anxious. "What happened? Boys?"

"We're okay," Alec says into the radio. "We're fine, there was just― I don't know, someone shot at us."

There's a pause.

"That'll be the sentries," Atlas says with a sigh. "Remember how I told you they shoot on sight? Unfortunately I have barely half of them hacked, the rest are still out to get you. Gotta be careful."

Jace leans his head back against the wall with a _thud._

"Now, what?" he says tiredly. Standing closest to the corner, he peeks out into the open room, just enough to get a glimpse, before pulling back.

"How's it look?" Alec asks.

"Well, there are a couple of pillars we could hide behind," Jace says. "The sentry's up in the corner, and it pans back and forth, so it's got some temporary blind spots. But it's also pointed in a way where we can't even get to the nearest pillar, without getting spotted and shot, first."

Alec sighs heavily, as does Magnus.

"So I can't shoot it down," Alec says, and Jace shakes his head.

"I'm afraid I'm not much help, either," Magnus supplies, turning to Jace. "Healing you depleted my magic, I still need a minute to recharge."

He says it a little dryly, but not with malice, and Jace doesn't seem to take it that way. Neither does Alec, who just gives Magnus an unreadable look. He licks his lips, thinking, then brings the radio back up.

"Is there a detour we can take?" he asks Atlas.

"Yes, but I'd advise against it," Atlas says. "It'll add at least another hour, and there's a small horde of Forsaken that likes to occupy that route."

Alec exhales, closes his eyes.

"Shit," he says under his breath. None of them have time to linger on it, though, before Atlas speaks again.

"There is another solution," he says. "You could turn it off. The sentry."

Magnus frowns, meets Jace's eye before they both turn to the radio.

"What do you mean?" Alec asks.

"I control ones on the same network," Atlas explains. "That one doesn't belong to a network I have access to. If you can't shoot it down, you're gonna have to do it manually. Is there anything on the ceiling you can climb?"

"Pipes?" Alec says, looking up at the cracked ceiling. Entire pieces of it have fallen down, likely due to those Splicers they've seen crawling around like spiders. "But it'll still put us in view of the sentry."

"Not necessarily," Atlas says. "Stay close to the ceiling and you'll hide in a blind spot. Just get to it, and pull the plug on the back."

Alec seems to consider it for about a second.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."

"It's either that, or take an extra-long monster trip," Jace says, without Atlas hearing.

"I'd rather take on monsters I know," Alec retorts, "than risk getting filled with bullet holes over some stupid plan."

"I'm going to have to agree," Magnus says. "As much as I want to move quickly, it's not worth the risk, not now."

"Gentlemen," Atlas prompts.

"We can't do that," Alec says into the radio. "We'll take the detour."

"There's no time for a detour," Atlas says, his tone suddenly impatient and anxious. "My family has already waited long enough."

"It's not happening," Alec says firmly. "And those pipes don't even look like they'll hold," he adds with some irritation, gesturing up at the exposed pipes Atlas can't see.

"They'll hold," Atlas says. "Now, would you kindly get over there and shut the damn thing off."

Jace straightens, sheathing his seraph blade, but Magnus barely has time to wonder what he's planning, before he moves. With an easy leap and push-off from the wall, Jace grabs onto the exposed pipes and pulls his body up horizontal and parallel to the ceiling.

"Jace!" Alec watches as his brother ignores him and instead starts climbing, carrying himself along the ceiling. The pipes creak ominously under his weight, but they hold, and Alec and Magnus both watch as he slowly and carefully nears the sentry. "God damn it," Alec bites out, tense with frustrated concern, but unable to do much of anything to help. He can't even do more than peek around the corner to track Jace's progress.

Meanwhile, Magnus listens carefully for any development. There's the rhythmic whirring of the sentry passing its tracking light from one area to the next, as well as strained sounds and heavy breathing from Jace, but it's not making Magnus feel any better. Jace shouldn't even be doing this. None of them should, but least of all Jace with his recent, albeit healed, injury.

Magnus watches Alec's face. He's not looking at anything in particular, just staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched, listening intently, and Magnus refrains from putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't like seeing him like this, doubting and impatient and anxious, and he wants to make it better. But he refrains. He and Alec don't really know each other, after all, and Magnus is not about to step into his concern for his parabatai.

The sound of gunfire splits through the tense silence, and this time, Magnus does grab Alec. He seems to instinctively make a move to check on Jace, but Magnus keeps him still, and after the longest four seconds imaginable, the gunfire stops. Magnus holds his breath, as does Alec.

"We're clear!" calls Jace, and Alec practically sags against the wall. Magnus loosens his grip on his arm and draws a breath of relief, while Alec throws him a look of something he can't quite determine. It's brief, and Magnus doesn't linger on it as Alec makes his way around the corner.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he barks, as loudly as he dares given the constant threat of Splicers nearby. Magnus follows him out into the open space, and spots Jace clinging to the black sentry up in the corner, by the ceiling. The sentry is dark and unanimated, and Jace cocks his head.

"Worked, didn't it?" he says. He sounds out of breath, and rather than just dropping to the floor, he pushes off where he's perched and does a backwards flip through the air, before landing. Magnus raises his eyebrows, a wholly unimpressed look on his face.

"Was that really necessary?" he says, gesturing at Jace's acrobatics, to which Jace offers a frown.

"Yes?" he says dryly, with utter confidence, and Magnus sighs.

"And people call me dramatic," he says under his breath.

"Why'd you go up there?" Alec says, clearly not ready to drop the main subject, just yet.

"'Cause someone had to," Jace says. "And it's dealt with, we can go."

"You could have died," Alec points out, and this time, Jace has the decency to look at least slightly sheepish.

"I know," he says. "But I didn't. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it worked. Now, let's go."

Alec sighs through his nose, lips pressed together, but he doesn't object. He just shakes his head as they start moving again.

 

"Thank you." Alec's voice takes Magnus by surprise, or at least the tone of it does. It's soft, subdued, and Magnus turns to him with a slight frown.

"For what?" he asks. Alec licks his lips, glancing over at Jace, who's walking just slightly ahead of them.

"For stopping me," Alec says, turning back to Magnus. "Before. Probably would have done something stupid, if you hadn't."

"You?" Magnus says, raising his eyebrows as a light expression settles on his face. "I can't imagine."

Alec's mouth quirks in a smile, and he nods as he looks straight ahead.

"You'd be surprised," he says, and Magnus breathes a laugh.

"Well, don't mention it," he says. "As heroic as going after your brother would have been, it wouldn't have ended well. And frankly, this place would be a lot less fun without you by my side. Couldn't have that."

He says it lightly, enough for Alec not to take it seriously, and the smile is still on Alec's face when he meets Magnus's eye.

"'Cause it's so much fun here to begin with," he says. Magnus hums in agreement.

"Quite the adventure."

They've updated Atlas on their situation, and how they managed to disable and get past the sentry, albeit very irritatingly retold on Alec's part. They agreed to check back in later on, Smuggler's Hideout still their main goal, which is still quite a distance away. As it is, they're still on the right track, and it shouldn't take too long if they stay on that track.

Which is hard to do, when distractions involve food.

"You think anyone's in there?" Jace wonders out loud, when they come across a small bistro in the corner of what looks like a small town square. The floor and walls are as damaged as anywhere else, and the _R_ of the _bistro_ sign flickers rapidly, disrupting the greenish-blue hue of the area.

"Could be," Alec says, seraph blade materializing in his hand. "Might not be any food, though."

"It's worth a look," Magnus says, smoothly pushing past them both and heading for the bistro's entrance. The glass doors, like the windows, are dark with smudge and lack of interior lighting, but they open easily when pushed, and Magnus steps inside. He hears the two shadowhunters follow behind him.

They're in luck; in the back room are two boxes, one of which has been dumped onto the floor, and one which sits half-closed beside it. Beside them both is a corpse, which looks like it's been lying there for at least a few weeks, but they choose to ignore it.

"How is there still stuff left here?" Alec says, as Magnus gingerly crouches down to look at the tipped-over box. There are sandwiches wrapped in plastic and put in plastic containers, but almost all of them have mold of varying stages on them.

"Let's not discuss how Splicers and Forsaken might fill their food-needs," Magnus says dryly, and both Jace and Alec get a slightly shaken expression.

"Good idea," Jace says, digging through the upright box. Then he makes a sound of triumph, and grabs something from within. "Lucky day."

Magnus stands up, sees the look on Jace's face as he holds up a bag of potato chips. Alec frowns apprehensively, eyeing the bag.

"You're not gonna eat that, are you?" he asks evenly, while Jace just tears the bag open.

"It's fine," Jace says. "Still fresh. Ish."

He shrugs, and as if to prove his point, takes a chip from the bag and puts it in his mouth, while Alec just stares in tired astonishment.

"You found it on the floor, next to a dead body," he emphasizes, his tone flat.

"In a _box_ next to a dead body," Jace says. "Sealed in a bag."

He puts another chip in his mouth, chewing and crunching obnoxiously, and holds the bag out to Alec. Alec doesn't even reply, instead Magnus observes how he just levels Jace with a look. He might be hungry, but apparently not _that_ hungry. Yet.

Jace offers the bag to Magnus, who shakes his head with a wary glance at it.

"No, thank you," he says.

"There's sandwiches," Jace says with his mouth full, gesturing at the upended box on the dirty floor.

"I'll pass on the floor sandwiches too, thanks."

Alec sighs with a just barely there eye-roll, but there's a slight quirk of his mouth as he directs his attention to the shelves against the wall, instead. Meanwhile, Jace returns to the boxes on the floor to see what else is around, and Magnus watches him with a frown for a moment, before turning to Alec.

There's some canned food on the shelves. The supply is rather sparse, given how this place must have been looted long ago, but it's something. Alec eyes the cans as Magnus approaches, throws him a quick glance as he comes to stand beside him. Alec's back straightens just a little.

"Impressive selection," Magnus says, surveying their choices. "Beans _and_ vegetable soup? I feel spoiled."

Alec chuckles.

"At least it's edible," he says, before ruefully adding, "Hopefully."

Magnus hums in agreement.

"You know what I could go for, right now?" he says. "A steak. Medium-rare, with a nice glass of wine. I know a place in Manhattan that makes the most excellent steak you can imagine."

"That does sound pretty good," Alec says, something longing about his tone. Magnus can't blame him; any mention of good food sounds heavenly at the moment, as none of them have eaten in several hours.

Perhaps it's the delirious hunger that's makes Magnus feel bold.

"I'll take you there, sometime," he says somewhat cheekily, and when Alec snaps his eyes to his, he wonders if maybe he overstepped. But Alec doesn't look too bothered. In fact, he looks almost... flustered, for lack of a better word. Once Magnus's words sink in. He swallows, schooling his features into a more neutral expression, and the moment seems to have passed. Until there's the subtle, but unmistakable sound of a stomach rumbling, and Magnus just blinks. Alec, meanwhile, grits his teeth, as though cursing his own body for its betrayal, and Magnus can't help but smile when the shadowhunter's expression turns somewhat sheepish.

"Oh dear," Magnus says. He turns back to the shelf, eyes it for a moment, before grabbing a can of beans. "How about we save the steak for a later time, and for now―" he hands Alec the can― "we settle for this?"

He holds Alec's gaze, and the corner of Alec's mouth tugs just a little.

"Sure."

 

Their meal, however well-needed, isn't exactly a formal affair. Considering the circumstances, the trio mostly just sit down for a minute and catch their breath, indulging in the canned goods available. Magnus offers to heat the soup and beans up with magic, but Alec insists he save his strength. Jace seems a little more open to the idea, but eventually agrees that yes, cold food is fine, and Magnus is simultaneously annoyed and touched by Alec's obvious concern. Even if said concern is for mostly practical reasons.

Once their stomachs are full, they keep moving, and it's mostly done in silence. They quickly fall back into the sort-of formation they wordlessly developed earlier on, Magnus integrating into the pre-existing parabatai dynamic with an ease that seems to surprise them all. There's the occasional Forsaken and stray Splicer, but nothing they can't handle, and it's not until they've made their way through a few more winding halls, alleys, and stairs, that they reach yet another more open area.

It's bigger than around the bistro, perhaps initially meant for busy pedestrians to take a rest and socialize, at least judging by the heavy benches along the walls and the abstract murals. Half of said benches have been overturned, one has been pushed to the middle of the open space and broken, and the cracked pots that once held plants and flowers now only carry dirt. Magnus counts at least eight bodies littered around the area, probably long-dead.

Above is a skylight, a domed ceiling that shows off the ocean and the neighboring buildings outside. Not only that, but as Magnus looks up, he spots a large squid swim past, equally eerie and impressive.

It's a sudden, low rumbling echoing in the distance that makes them all stop dead.

"What was that?" Alec says in a low, tense voice.

Magnus looks over his shoulder, the sound of slow, heavy steps making the very floor vibrate with each footfall, louder as they draw nearer. The sound is coming from a hallway near one they just left, and Magnus keeps his eyes on that opening for a few moments longer. There's an odd chill beneath his skin.

"We should move," he says.

"What?" Jace says. "Why? Let's just―" He gestures in the direction of the noise, as though pointing out that they've been dealing with plenty of threats left and right already, but Magnus cuts him off.

"Because it sounds big," Magnus says somewhat dryly, turning to him. He pauses, his voice tense. "And it's something else, something different from the Splicers, or the Forsaken. I can feel it."

"What do you mean?" Alec asks, brow furrowed.

"Just trust me," Magnus says. It's more rhetorical than anything, but Alec doesn't hesitate. Instead, he holds Magnus's gaze as he gives a nod, gently shoving Jace as he turns around. Jace offers him a slightly offended look, but no further resistance, as the three of them start moving again.

Despite its tragic beauty, this open space offers nothing but vulnerability, at the moment. That much becomes all the more evident when the wheezing rumble suddenly becomes louder, spilling out of the hallway and into the air―Magnus realizes they only have a second before they're discovered by whatever massive thing that's making that noise. Alec seems to realize this simultaneously.

"Hide," he says stiffly, keeping his voice low, but urgent. He's right; they could run toward the arched doorway on the other side, but they'd undoubtedly be spotted before getting there. Avoiding a fight is best, when possible.

As such, Alec, Magnus, and Jace end up crouching down behind one of the benches along the wall, across from the windows on the other side. It's not the best hiding place, but it's the best they can do, and with the dim lighting and the bench's solid concrete design, it might be enough.

None of them move as the heavy footsteps draw nearer, and Magnus catches Alec's gaze, holds it. Jace is between them, oblivious, peering out through a horizontal slit in the backrest of the bench, which seems to serve a mostly decorative purpose. Magnus reminds himself that his focus should also be on their surroundings and approaching enemy. _Not_ on a handsome, dark-haired shadowhunter with whom he's currently sharing a perilous situation. And especially not for a moment which―in its four seconds―has already lasted too long.

"Holy shit," Jace suddenly says under his breath, and Magnus's eyes go to him, instead. "That's the thing."

"What?"Alec whispers.

"The― The thing," Jace says, very quietly, gesturing at said thing. "That carried me, when I was knocked out."

Magnus turns to look. Through the small gap in the backrest, he sees a creature, taller than an average man, and much larger. It takes him a moment to realize that whatever it is, it's wearing a huge, diver-like suit, with circular lights on the front of its oversized brass helmet, metal bars bent across. On the creature's back is what looks like a tank, a giant drill attached to its arm in place of a hand. Even from this distance, Magnus notices scratches and markings on the suit that look a lot like a warlock's work.

The sheer weight and size of it all makes the creature move slowly, hunched over and lumbering along, as it groans and wheezes in a way that sounds half-organic and half-mechanical. The rumbling intermittently drops so low that it seems to reverberate through the air, and it vaguely reminds Magnus of whale song, albeit more ominous than beautiful.

The creature doesn't hold his attention for long, however, not when something else catches his eye.

"There she is," Jace whispers, spotting the same thing. "Can't say if it's the same one I saw, but―" He trails off with a cock of his head.

There's a girl in a pale blue dress, wandering across the floor, no more than seven or eight years old. Her feet are bare, but she doesn't seem too bothered by the debris and cracks and puddles of water, instead humming pleasantly to herself as she goes. There's a sheen of what looks like scales across her arms; Magnus remembers such a warlock mark being part of the description for one of the missing children he came here to find. That said, actually having found one of the children brings him more concern than relief, right now.

For a moment, Magnus worries the large creature will hurt the girl, but she seems completely unafraid, gently patting the creature's giant rubber-gloved hand as she walks by. The creature rumbles. It sounds almost... affectionate.

There's something so wrong about the whole picture. Even more so when Magnus notices the large, gun-like contraption in the girl's hand. Instead of a barrel, there's a long needle, like an oversized syringe. Magnus can't help but wonder if the container of red liquid at the other end of the gun has been withdrawn through the needle, or if it's meant to be injected.

"Look, Mr. Bubbles," the little girl suddenly says, and Magnus feels the shadowhunters next to him tense. It quickly becomes clear that they haven't been spotted, however. Instead, the girl approaches a body on the floor, lying on its side. "It's an angel. I can see light coming from her belly."

The girl's voice seems otherworldly in a distinctly unsettling way; there's a second layer of sound, a low hum filtered across her happy, softly excited tone. Meanwhile, the diver-suited creature makes a low, reverberating sound of what could be interpreted as agreement. It lingers by the girl's side as she crouches down, syringe in hand. She stops.

"Wait a minute," she says. "This one's still breathing. That's alright. I know she'll be an angel soon."

She straightens up again, and the creature emits a tired, wheezing groan as the child takes its hand―or rather, one of its fingers, given her small grip. But it still offers no objection when she starts leading it away from the scene, instead lumbers along with her quick, soft steps as she goes.

It's only when the pair have left through the arched doorway and been out of sight for several seconds―the creature's low rumbling still echoing in the distance―that either Magnus, Jace, or Alec speak.

"How did they not notice us?" Alec says, just above a whisper. The constant dripping and groaning of the city itself seems to have become white noise to them at this point, and his voice sounds oddly loud in the sudden, relative silence.

Magnus shakes his head.

"Maybe they only care if you're a threat," he suggests, but he has no idea. Though, given this rather haphazard hiding place, he can't think of another explanation.

"Well, whatever the reason," Jace says, glancing around before he slowly stands up, Alec following suit. "We should probably keep moving."

"I need to know what they did to her," Magnus says, rising from the floor. He can't help the slight urgency in his tone, as it returns to normal speaking volume. "That girl. That was not normal."

Alec presses his lips together, eyes darting between Magnus and his parabatai.

"And we'll figure it out," Jace says. "But right now, we need to go."

"And why is that up to you?" Magnus asks with a frown.

"Look," Alec says, interrupting them both and immediately turning their eyes on him. "We will help those kids, and we will get them out of here. But we don't know what we're up against with those things, and we're not prepared to take that on. Until we are, we probably shouldn't run after it."

Magnus just looks at him, keeps his expression neutral and still somewhat annoyed, but mostly to hide the fact that he appreciates how Alec is making perfect sense. Just taking charge and not taking sides, offering a rational approach in a highly irrational place and situation. He's good at it, Magnus thinks. It suits him. It suits him well.

_Damn it._

Jace exhales, turns to Magnus, who gives him a glance. Magnus resists the urge roll his eyes.

"Fine," he says, stepping away from their hiding place, perhaps moving with a little more swagger than necessary. "It's not like we're on a tight schedule, or anything."

He gestures airily with his hand as he turns his back on his companions, and he'll admit he feels a little petty as he does it. He swears he hears a small breath of laughter from Alec, though, and it makes him feel a lot better about it.

"Wait," Jace says just as he and Alec follow, and Magnus takes a slow breath. He turns around.

"What?" Alec asks, inadvertently stopping Magnus from saying the word in a considerably snippier tone. Which is probably for the best.

"She said this one was still breathing," Jace says, making his way across the puddles and debris, approaching the body the warlock child examined earlier.

"So?" Alec says, some apprehension in his voice. "That doesn't mean anything. Even if that one is alive, people aren't exactly friendly down here."

Jace ignores him, instead looks down at the body. Alec stays in place, though visibly tense and concerned, so Magnus takes it upon himself to help Jace out. He brushes past Alec and crouches down beside the body, Jace hovering above him. It's a girl, long, red hair stringy and dirty from being on the floor, and Magnus carefully pulls some loose strands away from where they cover her face. There's a nasty cut on her forehead, a bruise blooming on her cheek, but she still looks distinctly uncorrupted by the poison all those Splicers have destroyed themselves with. With a press of his fingertips against the girl's throat, Magnus feels a pulse.

"Is she―?" Jace starts.

"She's alive," Magnus says, before noticing something on the side of her neck. He gently pulls down the collar of her dark leather jacket. The black markings on her pale skin are unmistakable. "And a shadowhunter."

Alec doesn't say anything, but Magnus hears him slowly approach behind them. No doubt, he's keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Jace sinks down beside the strange girl, stele in hand as he carefully rolls her over onto her back. Sure enough, the rune on her neck is an iratze, and he activates it.

Nothing happens for a few moments, but once the bloody cut on her forehead has been healed, the girl stirs, blinking her eyes open. There's a moment of still tension, Jace leaning over her with a somewhat expectant, concerned expression. Then she reacts, her eyes darting to Jace's thigh and her hand immediately following. She yanks the seraph blade from his holster, and the weapon's runes light up as she places the edge of the blade against Jace's throat, with lightning speed.

"Whoa," Jace says, and Alec tenses, but refrains from interfering. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, see?"

Jace angles his head to show the rune on his own neck, and the girl seems surprised for a moment, before her expression hardens again.

"Doesn't make you one of the good guys," she says.

"Last time I checked," Jace says evenly, "it kind of does."

"Everyone I've seen so far is a shadowhunter," the girl says harshly, pressing her blade just slightly harder against Jace's throat. Even lying on her back, covered in filth and blood, she doesn't seem to feel outnumbered. "And they're all monsters."

Jace hesitates, then he cocks his head.

"You're right," he says. "On both accounts, probably. But I _am_ one of the good guys. The Clave sent us."

"Not all of us," Magnus adds dryly, and while Jace rolls his eyes, Magnus hears Alec breathe another laugh.

"Why?" the girl asks.

"Because of Valentine Morgenstern," Jace says steadily. "We're here to gather intel, report back so they know what we're up against. I might as well ask you what _you're_ doing here, since I'm guessing you're not a local."

The girl hesitates, tightens her jaw as her gaze skims over the three strangers above her.

"I don't know," she admits.

Jace frowns.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean, I don't know," the girl says with some irritation, pressing the blade a little harder against his neck, making him wince. "I was in Brooklyn, walking down the street, and next thing I know, I wake up here. What is this place, anyway?"

Jace keeps his frown, glances at Magnus, who takes a breath.

"Rapture," he says, deciding to keep it simple, and the girl turns her attention to him. "City at the bottom of the ocean. Sounds crazy, but it's the honest, horrible truth. Valentine runs it."

The girl seems to process this, her brow furrowing as she glances from Magnus to Jace. Then she exhales, removes the blade from Jace's throat, and he visibly relaxes.

"Thanks," he says, pausing as he rubs his throat. "I'm Jace, by the way. That's Alec, and Magnus Bane."

He gestures at them both as he introduces them, but the girl's eyes linger on Magnus.

"I know you," she says, slowly sitting up as Jace gives her space. "Well, my mom did. You're the High Warlock of Brooklyn, right?"

Magnus gives a nod.

"The very same," he says. "May I ask who your mother is?"

The girl's expression grows somber.

"She _was_ Jocelyn Fairchild," she says. "I'm Clary."

Magnus gives a sad smile, nodding as he recognizes the names.

"Of course," he says. "I was sorry to hear about what happened. She was a special woman."

"Thank you," Clary says, somewhat reluctantly handing back Jace's seraph blade but ignoring his offered hand as she gets up from the floor. Magnus rises with her. "Valentine is the one responsible for her death. And if he's the one who runs this place, I guess that explains why I'm here, too."

"What makes you so sure?" Alec asks, frowning. Clary turns to him with a steady gaze.

"He's my father."

Alec's face immediately goes from vaguely suspicious to surprised and almost _offended._

"Your―" he starts, turning to Jace, as though it's his fault. "Seriously?"

He says it flatly, and Jace seems to pick up on some budding irritation in his parabatai's voice.

"Okay, let's just calm down," he says, both his tone and expression mirroring his words. Alec, however, isn't having it.

"Calm down?" he says, his frown back and the question laced with controlled irritation. "The guy responsible for all of _this_ ―" he gestures at the general area they're in― "is _her_ father. And we just happen to find her. That doesn't strike you as odd?"

"What, you're saying it's a trap?" Jace says with a frown, folding his arms, as though offended by the suggestion.

"Yes, Jace," Alec replies sharply. "That's what I'm saying."

"Hey," Clary says defensively, and Alec purses his lips, giving her a tired look that can only be described as _scathing._ Clary doesn't seem fazed however, if her frown and set jaw are anything to go by. "I don't even know how I got here. I've never even met my father. All I know is he's a genocidal maniac who's the reason my mom is dead. I want him gone, just as much as you do."

"Then how about you explain how you just happen to be here, when we are," Alec says, taking a step forward. He's already the tallest of the group, but he practically towers over Clary.

"I don't know," Clary says, stubbornly holding his gaze and enunciating every word.

"Which just seems really convenient," Alec says.

"Alec," Magnus says, his voice low but firm; they can't afford to attract attention. But Alec doesn't seem to notice, and Jace looks mostly annoyed.

"You can't just expect―" Alec starts, but cuts himself off when Magnus places a hand against his back. He turns to Magnus, who gives him a hopefully understanding look.

"We need to keep moving," Magnus says calmly. "We can discuss this later. For now, we'll just take her at her word."

Alec looks like he's about to argue, gritting his teeth as he takes a breath. He turns to Clary, then Jace, before letting out an exhale.

"Let's go."

 

* * *

 

"You're kidding."

Isabelle watches as the most recent addition to Magnus's loft―another warlock, Catarina―addresses Ragnor with tired disbelief.

"I most certainly am not," Ragnor says calmly. From what Izzy remembers from the Institute archives, Catarina is another one of Magnus's close friends, and she seems to be just as close with Ragnor. She has only been here for twenty minutes, and already Izzy recognizes their dynamic as almost sibling-like.

"Well, you must be," Catarina says, "because I could have sworn you just said Magnus was stuck at the bottom of the ocean."

"It's slightly more complicated than that."

"And that's where the 'you're kidding' part comes in," Catarina says, arms folded across her chest. "'Cause apparently you helped him put himself there."

"The alternative was to let him kill himself trying alone," Ragnor says. "What would you have done?"

Catarina doesn't seem to have an answer for that. Instead, she sighs, rubs her forehead with her fingers.

"Fine," she says. "Maybe we can find a way to send a message of some kind, but that's all I see us plausibly being able to do. What kind of message would we even _send_?"

"We'll figure that out once we have a way to help them out of there," Izzy cuts in, stepping away from where she's been standing by the bookcase, respectfully observing. Catarina turns to her.

"Rapture is a big city," she says, with a slight frown. "You realize there's no guarantee that Magnus and your brothers are even in the same place. Even if we were to find a way to get him out, and even if we were able to relay that to him, it might not help them."

"It's worth a shot," Izzy says, trying not to sound desperate. "It's all I can think of. We have to try."

Catarina watches her for a few moments, then turns back to Ragnor, who raises his eyebrows as if to say he agrees. Catarina shakes her head, but she seems to accept their reasoning.

"I'll see what he's got," Catarina says, making her way to another room, where Izzy assumes tools and more books are kept. "Maybe enhancement spells, or covert messaging."

"That would be lovely, dear," Ragnor says as she goes, Catarina waving dismissively over her shoulder. He turns to Izzy. "And I suppose I shall do the same."

"What about me?" Izzy asks, and Ragnor pauses.

"Well, you could―" he starts, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. He narrows his eyes, glances between the door and Izzy, as though asking if this is her doing. She shrugs, and Ragnor makes his way into the hall.

"Is Magnus here?" a man says the moment the door opens. Izzy sees him making his way past Ragnor and into the apartment as she goes to look. Behind him follow two people Izzy's own age―a guy with a currently beleaguered expression, and a girl with dark, curly hair.

"Oh, by all means," Ragnor says acidly, closing the door behind them. "Please, come in. Never mind invitations or politeness."

"Where is he?" the man says, turning to Ragnor once he reaches the lounge and sees that Magnus isn't there. He doesn't sound angry, he sounds tense. Concerned, but firm.

"Why is everyone asking for Magnus, today?" Ragnor says, annoyed, making his way over to the couch.

"Well, he's the High Warlock," the young man says. "He's a popular guy."

Ragnor makes a grumbling sound, but doesn't seem to want to argue.

"I need to see him," the first man says, more calmly now. "I'm Luke Garroway, Alpha of the New York pack. I need his help."

"I know who you are," Ragnor says tiredly, sitting down. He sighs, before adding under his breath, "I did not sign up for any of this today."

"Well, tough," the young guy says. "My friend's been missing for days, and we need help getting her back."

"Simon," the girl says, putting a hand on his arm. "Chill."

"Maia, you know th―" Simon says, but Maia gives him a pointed look, and he takes a deep breath, turning to gaze down at the expensive carpet instead.

"Look," Luke says, eyes on Ragnor. "I've been looking all over, checking every lead I can think of, both on the street and old followers of Valentine. Now, I know the Clave found Valentine, and I know they sent in someone after him. Clary is his daughter, and I know he's behind her disappearance, I feel it in my bones."

Izzy straightens at the mention of this, alert.

"Oh good lord," Ragnor says, sounding exhausted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Of course, you're also here about Rapture. God, why did I agree to this? I should know better than to go along with that idiot's stupid plans―"

"Can you help me, or not?" Luke says. There's a few seconds of silence, before Ragnor looks up at him. He lets his gaze pass over all his visitors, gathered here in his friend's home, before he heaves the heaviest, most suffering sigh, as he gets up from the couch.

"Please," he says flatly, gesturing at the available furniture of the lounge. "Have a seat."

 

* * *

 

"So, you're saying you just... woke up here?" Jace asks, not unkindly. "Where? Why?"

"I told you, I don't know," Clary says with some frustration, all the same. "I just know I woke up in a dark place, I was pretty out of it. I felt like I'd been sleeping for weeks."

"What woke you up?"

"I don't know," Clary repeats, sighing. She shakes her head. "It was like a― a push. Like I was yanked awake, or something. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness for ages, but eventually I woke up enough to _get_ up. I panicked, didn't know where I was."

"Wait, a push?" Magnus asks, frowning as something comes to mind.

"Yeah," Clary says. None of them keep their voices down as they walk, weapons at the ready, but they're still taking care to keep a low profile.

"When was this?"

Clary shrugs.

"No idea," she says. "Hours ago? I don't even know how long I was lying on the floor back there, before you guys came along. It could be a day, for all I know. I barely remember how I got there from where I was, just that I hit my head before you found me."

"Why?" Jace asks Magnus, who presses his lips together with a frown.

"It sounds like you were sedated, somehow," he tells Clary. "If it was done magically, disturbing it may have been my fault." His companions all turn to him, expressions on various levels of bewilderment, and Magnus sighs. "Just piercing through these wards, even for a brief moment, requires an immense amount of energy. Focused energy. Like a bullet. Just getting it done required more than just my own magic, and I can assure you that my arrival here was... more turbulent than I would have liked. It's possible that my Portal was enough to cause some kind of disruption or disturbance inside the wards, magically speaking. And if you _were_ magically sedated, it's therefore possible this disturbance is what woke you up. Or at the very least, broke through enough of the sedation for you to fight your way awake."

Clary looks confused and troubled at this news, but simultaneously relieved. They've explained to her further what Rapture and its denizens are, their deal with Atlas, as well as the details about the wards and their function. Magnus's words now reveal two things; it is possible to pierce the wards, but the chances of doing so are slim to none.

"Wait," Alec says, and Magnus turns to him. The young shadowhunter is absently gazing straight ahead, his brow furrowed. He seems to frown a lot, and Magnus will admit he finds it endearing. "When did _you_ get here?"

Magnus blinks at the unexpected question.

"Can't be sure," he says. "A couple of hours before I found you?"

Alec nods.

"And when you say 'bullet'," he says, gesturing with his hand. "Does that mean 'loud', too?"

"Probably," Magnus says, curious where this is going. "I can't say for certain, though. The Portal landed me in a half-flooded tunnel, it wasn't really something I was thinking of, at the time. But given the volatility of the journey, 'loud' wouldn't surprise me, no."

There's a beat of silence, before Jace seems to realize something.

"Wait, you think that―?" he says, not finishing the question, and Alec meets his eye.

"It fits," Alec says. He turns to Magnus, on his right side. "There was an explosion or something when we arrived, it sent a shockwave through the water. It hit the sub, nearly sent us crashing into a building. Knocked us both out."

Alec doesn't sound accusing by any means, only matter-of-fact, and Magnus takes a slow breath as realizes what he's suggesting.

"My Portal," he says, thinking out loud. He exhales. "I think it'd be fair to assume that breaching the wards like I did would have caused that kind of shockwave, yes. The timing is definitely too coincidental."

"So, you're saying that if you hadn't arrived the same time as us," Jace says, "we wouldn't have been separated?" He gestures between himself and Alec. "And Clary would still be held captive somewhere?"

"Well, I'm sure there are plenty of other factors to take into consideration in terms of probability," Magnus says, a bit dryly. "But essentially, yes."

"Wow," Jace says, but he sounds more surprised and amused, than anything. "That's―"

Magnus stops dead, holding a hand up to make the others follow suit. Jace and Alec both look alert, while Clary appears more confused. Magnus can't blame her, given how she seems to have seen less of the horrors down here, up close.

"What?" she says. As she speaks, there's a low rumble in the air, along with heavy, dragging steps.

"Shit, it's another one of those," Alec says, tense.

"Or the same one," Jace says.

"Another one of what?" Clary asks, while Magnus takes a few steps forward. There, up ahead, is indeed the distinct outline of the massive, lumbering creature in question.

"A demon," Magnus says, eyes on it.

"Demon?" Alec says, walking up to stand beside him. "How do you know?"

"I can sense it," Magnus says. He shakes his head. "It's different, almost _broken_ , but it's― It is a demon."

"Does that mean we can kill it like a demon?" Jace says, keeping his voice low. Magnus turns to him, while Alec keeps watching the creature in the distance.

"I would assume so," Magnus says. "There are warlock markings on its suit, they must be there for a good reason. Maybe to keep the demon contained, maybe to make it stronger, I don't know."

"All I hear is 'yes', so―" Jace shrugs, and starts walking down the hall in the demon's direction. It's well within sight, but doesn't seem to have noticed them, yet.

"Don't we need some kind of game plan?" Clary says, following him, and Magnus sighs as he and Alec do the same.

"We wanna get the girl, right?" Jace says. "We kill the demon, we get the girl."

"Yeah, 'cause things are usually that simple," Alec says dryly.

"Come on, we do this all the time," Jace says with a smirk a little more cocky than Magnus has seen so far, as he turns to face them, walking backwards. "We've dealt with a whole bunch of things, just since we got here. It can't be that b―"

Magnus will admit that the sight of someone so overconfident tripping and falling on his ass is incredibly amusing, regardless of circumstance, and Clary seems to agree. She lets out a laugh as Jace glares at them all from the floor, while Alec just heaves a suffering sigh, scratching above his eyebrow with his thumb.

"Oh my god," he says under his breath, but holds out his hand to help Jace up, all the same. Then his eye catches something behind Jace, and his expression and tone turn much more tense. "We've been spotted."

They don't really have time for a game plan; the large, suited demon is already barreling toward them at a higher speed than Magnus anticipated it would be capable of. The lights on the front of its helmet have gone from yellow to red, and that cannot be a good sign.

Alec fires an arrow into the creature's chest, but it does nothing but enrage it, the rumble deep and loud as the demon swings with its giant drill. Clary expertly leaps out of its way, while Jace uses its confusion to slice across its side with his seraph blade, and Magnus takes a moment to see where the little girl has gone. _There_ , standing nearby, clutching something in her hands as though anxiously waiting for the fight to end, glowing eyes wide. As though she's _worried_ about the demon.

Alec shoots another arrow into the creature's chest, while Jace drives his blade into its neck. He's forced to pull back, however, when it furiously swings its drill in his direction instead, this time with it loudly spinning as though driven by an engine. Thankfully, the creature is straightforward with its brute force, and the drill ends up goring into the wall, rather than Jace's chest, as Jace leaps aside aided by shadowhunter speed. He throws his blade to Clary, who bends down and slices at the creature's legs, but it does nothing.

"We need a weak spot," Jace says, pacing in order to keep the creature confused. Its field of vision must be limited, Magnus notes, given the design of the helmet. The glowing discs, the _windows_ , seem to be the only view outward that it has.

"Its head," Magnus says, putting his hands closer together to summon up the magic he needs. "Through the glass."

Alec throws him a glance, and sees the magic which looks more like living heat, than energy, being pulled seemingly out of nowhere by Magnus's hands. He nocks an arrow, turns back to the creature just as Magnus gathers up some force and launches it at the demon, wrapping his magic around it like a vice. The moment he does it, Magnus knows he won't be able to hold it for more than a moment; on any other occasion, this would be easy, but these are special circumstances. Thankfully, a moment of the creature being still is all they need―the arrow Alec fires right through one of the glowing red windows immediately makes that light go out, and the creature's rumble dies down. As soon as Magnus releases his hold, the demon crashes heavily to the floor.

The exhaustion that suddenly washes over Magnus is surprisingly intense, and he falls to his knees. Clary crouches down to catch him, to keep him from falling over entirely, and Magnus closes his eyes.

"Is it dead?" Jace asks, still standing.

"Pretty sure, yeah," Alec replies. "It was a tough one, though."

Magnus exhales in relief. That could have gone a whole lot worse. At least they―

He frowns as he hears an unexpected sound; crying. It makes him open his eyes and sit up properly, looking for the source of it. Then he finds himself just staring for a moment, along with Alec, Clary, and Jace.

"Is she okay?" Clary asks, her voice almost a whisper.

The warlock child is sitting on the floor, next to the fallen demon. She's not even bothering to stay quiet, instead crying openly as she tugs and pulls on the heavy fabric and brass joints of the suit, as though trying to rouse the demon from sleep. It's useless, her small hands barely enough to jostle its body, and Magnus feels his heart clench at the sight. He slowly sits up properly.

"I think they must have been bonded, somehow," he says quietly, as to not disturb the girl. Despite being virtually surrounded, she seems currently oblivious to anyone's presence, even as Magnus stands up along with Clary. "It would explain her eyes, too."

"Well then, if the demon is dead," Alec says, matching Magnus's low volume as they all watch the child, "shouldn't she be back to normal?"

"Theoretically," Magnus says. It's clear that the warlock is _not_ back to normal, given her mournful reaction and the eerie glow still coming from her eyes. "But I've never seen something quite like this, to begin with."

"So, what do we do?" Jace asks.

"What _can_ we do?" Clary says. "We can't just leave her like this."

Magnus doesn't reply, instead takes a breath as he starts slowly making his way over to the small girl. She doesn't even notice his presence until he accidentally shuffles some debris under his shoe, and she looks up. Up close, her eyes are more than just eerie―they look wrong, unnatural, the pale-yellow glow covering the whites as well as the irises, only enhanced by the sheen of tears. The girl sniffles, falls back onto the floor as she tries to distance herself from Magnus, shuffling backwards.

"It's okay," Magnus says, as soothingly as he can. "We're here to help you."

The girl's face scrunches up in scared defiance, and she only looks away to once again tug on the demon's suit, more aggressively this time, as though it will make a difference. Magnus takes a step closer, and she trips over the demon's outstretched arm as she crawls further away. She grips its rubber-gloved hand, dragging it with her and actually managing to move the heavy arm across the floor. It's obvious she doesn't want to leave her companion, but as Magnus takes yet another step closer, she gives up.

She shoots up so fast that Magnus barely has time to react, clambering over the demon to get away, and breaking into a run. Thankfully, she doesn't get far before Jace scoops her up, lifting her off the floor, but she doesn't take being apprehended lightly.

"Shit," Jace mutters as the girl starts twisting and kicking to get out of his grip. "She's strong. God damn it―"

"Don't let go," Magnus says, quickly making his way over. He takes the girl's face in his hands, reaching out with his senses to see what might be wrong. All the while, she struggles and shouts, but as much as it pains Magnus to hear, he doesn't stop.

It doesn't take more than a moment to find it―a festering, black presence inside her, like poison, already spread and securely latched on. Magnus swallows hard.

"What is it?" Clary asks.

"Poison," Magnus replies, over the child's shouts of _no_ and attempts to shove him off. "The demonic kind. It's still there, but I should be able to purge it."

"Magnus―" Alec starts, and Magnus knows he's about to suggest he rethink this and wait, or perhaps attempt something else. But there's no time for that.

"Alexander, I have to try," Magnus therefore cuts him off, softly but firmly, without even looking up. Judging by the way Alec falls silent, it's enough, and Magnus takes a deep, steadying breath.

He places his palm against the child's forehead this time, reluctantly helping Jace hold her in place as she writhes and screams to be let go. He closes his eyes, mutters a spell under his breath, hoping against hope that it will work, feeling his magic move through him like a conscious entity bursting from an unseen source. He opens his eyes, and a bright flare of golden light erupt from beneath his hand. The girl gasps, stops screaming and writhing as her head lolls against Jace's chest, the light snaking across her pale skin like veins. Magnus can _feel_ the poison being purged from her system, burned away and dissipating like smoke, and he does his best to keep it as painless as possible, his hand gently smoothing down along the side of her face.

Within seconds, it's over, and the girl goes slack in his grip. She's still conscious, albeit groggy and disoriented, and Magnus gives Jace a nod, prompting him to gently put her down to stand a little shaky-legged on the floor. The girl blinks, Magnus kneeling down in front of her, and when she looks up at him, he's relieved to see that her eyes are no longer pale and glowing. Instead, they're dark and wide and curious, albeit still red-rimmed from crying, and she just stares at him for a second, stunned. Then she looks around and notices the rest of the group, and in an instant, her expression turns fearful. Magnus doesn't have a chance to say or do anything else, before she suddenly runs off. Again.

"Hey, what―" Jace says, surprised. He darts after the child, but she has a head start, and this time he stands no chance of catching her as she nimbly climbs up into a vent in the wall. She disappears into the dark hole and out of sight, just as Jace reaches the vent, and he lets out a frustrated breath. "Great. Why'd she do that? We're just trying to help."

"She's trapped in a horrible, shadowhunter-run place," Magnus explains calmly, getting up from the floor, "and was just released from a demon's hold, while surrounded by strangers. Three of which are shadowhunters. Can you blame her?"

He steadies himself as his head starts spinning, looking down and closing his eyes for a moment under the guise of brushing off his jacket. It's pointless, anyway; the dark velvet is in awful shape, by now.

"At least she's okay," Clary says, audibly relieved. "Right?"

Magnus straightens, turns to the small shadowhunter.

"In terms of whatever was done to her, yes," he says. "But she has also just gone from a blissful child with a massive bodyguard, to a scared child in a scary place, likely without control of her magic. 'Okay' is, in this case, relative."

"Well, considering the alternative," Jace says, "I'm gonna say we made the right call."

"It's not gonna make much of a difference if we can't find the others," Clary says. "They could be anywhere."

She sounds genuinely concerned, and Magnus feels a swell of appreciation toward this girl. He remembers Jocelyn being headstrong and even a little manipulative at times, but she did have a good heart and believed she did what was best. Her attitude toward Downworlders was also always on the more progressive side, and her daughter seems to share that sentiment.

"We can't go looking for them right now, we should stay on mission," Jace says. "That means keeping our deal with Atlas. Getting out of here is the priority."

"So are these children," Magnus argues. "We will keep our end of the deal, but I am not leaving this place without them, either way."

"We don't even know where that girl went," Jace says, not unkindly. "We don't even know where to start."

"We could track her," Alec suggests, and Magnus frowns.

"How?" he says, turning to face him. "You're the one who keeps saying I should rest―"

He stops himself when Alec holds something up in front of him, eyebrows raised. Magnus makes his way over to him where he stands by the fallen demon, and eyes the object in Alec's hand. It's a doll, small and clearly homemade, with a pushpin-covered baseball for a head. Thin wires have been bent across the implied face, red string wrapped around the body, and a small metal spring sits attached to one of the rope-arms. It doesn't take much interpretation to see that this is a crude model of the suited demon lying dead on the floor.

"She dropped it," Alec says, and Magnus gently accepts the doll when he hands it to him. "Might be enough to track her."

Magnus studies the doll, turns it over in his hands. Despite the lack of skill gone into making it, there's obviously plenty of love behind the effort, each detail carefully added with the unsteady determination of a child. It makes Magnus wonder just how attached that girl was to her protector, and why. More importantly, it makes him wonder why magic wasn't used to make this doll. He can tell it was made entirely by hand, and the only reason he can think of is that the warlock child who made it wasn't able to use their magic, for whatever reason. Come to think of it, the girl didn't do much to defend herself, just now.

Perhaps it's more a case of her not having _access_ to her magic, rather than not being in control of it.

"I think you're right," Magnus says, looking up at Alec with a small, slightly sheepish smile. He holds his gaze for a moment, then turns to Jace and Clary, Clary looking hopeful, while Jace is hesitant. After some consideration, however, Jace sighs, with a relenting nod. Magnus gives him a grateful look, and turns back to Alec, handing him the doll. "Wanna do the honors?"

Alec's eyes go from Magnus's, to the doll, and back again. He accepts the doll with a small, barely-there smile, as he, Magnus, Jace, and Clary start moving again.

 

Magnus will admit that he's relieved tracking can be done without warlock magic. Especially after curing that child, he feels utterly exhausted―even if he's taking great care not to show it―and it's nice to take a break. As it is, Alec does most of the tracking, but he, Jace, and Clary can take turns if it were to become too tiring. None of them are in the best shape at the moment, but while they're slightly better off than Magnus, they still try to conserve their strength.

They discuss the possibility of the vents all belonging to some larger network, based on how the girl climbed right into one without hesitating, and on closer inspection, vents just like it seem to be everywhere. Brass panels on the walls, large and ornate, with a round hole at the top surrounded by what looks like a depiction of a sun, or a flower. The hole itself, the vent, is about at eye-level for a grown man, but it's clear that only small children could climb into one without issue. Magnus will admit it's tastefully done; the vents and their beautiful design blend in so easily with the rest of the city's decor that they likely wouldn't have been an eyesore even before it all went to hell.

It takes less time than expected for the tracking to become stronger, as they get closer to the source. Oddly, it's a dead end they reach once it does, a small mountain of debris blocking their path.

"Now, what?" Jace says, eyeing the obstacle and glancing at the doll in Alec's hand. It's still glowing faintly, proving that the tracking is in fact working, and Alec shakes his head.

"She should be around here," he says, looking around the room. It's not quite a corridor, not as narrow, but still with a low ceiling that creates a slightly claustrophobic atmosphere, given the lack of windows.

As Alec and Jace discuss how best to get through the debris―it looks like a small child could have gotten past it without much issue―Magnus notices Clary wander on her own. She makes her way to a nearby wall, feels along the peeling, vandalized wallpaper with her hands, a frown on her face.

"What are you thinking, biscuit?" Magnus asks, sidling up to her, and Clary shakes her head. Her hair is in slightly better shape than it was before, detangled with her fingers and pulled back into a ponytail, but the dirt and grime still make the bottom half of it look brown, rather than red.

"I don't know," she says, walking along the wall, Magnus following. They don't go far, their companions are still only a few feet away. "I think... I think I recognize this place. There should be a door or something around here, or a hatch."

Magnus frowns, eyes the wall.

"Well, we can assume the girl used the vents to get to safety," he says. "And that the others would, too. Who else would need to get into wherever they go? Why use a door?"

"Good question," Clary says under her breath. She keeps sliding her hands along the wallpaper, crouching down slightly to where the walls are even more damaged, cracks and dirt everywhere. "Maybe they just―"

Her fingers catch on something, and she throws Magnus a glance, before pulling. Magnus feels like he should be surprised when a section of the wall opens like a door―or rather, a piece of wall cut open like a door―but he isn't, not really. It's far from the strangest thing he's seen in this place.

"Guys," Clary says, pulling Alec and Jace out of their discussion as they turn in her direction. She doesn't need to elaborate, for them to immediately make their way over, Alec crouching down beside her.

"What the hell," he says, peering into the dark pathway hidden in the wall. It's considerably bigger than the vents, big enough for an adult to fit in, albeit perhaps a bit uncomfortably.

"Okay," Jace says after a few seconds of silence, his tone full of hesitation. "Who wants to go first?"

"I'll go," Clary says before anyone can stop her, and ducks into the hole. Jace gives an impressed eyebrow-raise.

"Alright," he says. "Let's go."

"Wait, just―" Alec starts, but Jace not-so-gracefully pushes past him and ducks into the hole. Alec, sitting in a crouch, falls over and lands more solidly on the floor with a tired, very _done_ expression, but only offers a sigh in way of more objection. Magnus watches Jace disappear into the darkness, and gives Alec a slightly amused look. Alec shakes his head. "Look, just..." He trails off, gesturing dismissively with his hand.

"Come on, guys," Jace calls. He doesn't sound like he's that far in, and there's no echo. "Move it."

Magnus helps Alec up from the floor, but instead of going in, Alec stands back to allow Magnus through. Magnus sighs, but Alec interrupts before he can insist.

"Just go," he says. "I'll bring up the rear."

Magnus has the urge to say something about how lovely Alec must find _his_ rear, or to say something about Alec's, but refrains. With immense difficulty.

"Very well," he says instead, with a slightly suffering expression, and ducks into the secret door.

While the path is pitch black and very cramped, it's bigger than the opening they entered through, just enough to let Magnus walk with his back hunched. What little light there is disappears as Alec enters behind Magnus and pulls the door closed, and ahead, only the faint glow of seraph blade runes are visible.

The path starts tilting downward, just slightly, and before long there's the faintest light up ahead. Magnus glances over his shoulder, which is completely pointless since he can't see Alec anyway.

"Any progress?" he half-whispers. He glimpses the faint glow of the doll still in Alec's hand.

"Yeah," Alec says. "Should be right up ahead."

There's a large gap between Clary and Jace, and Jace and Magnus―then Clary must disappear from sight, because Jace starts moving a little faster.

"Clary," he calls, as loudly as he dares, and Magnus hears his steps quicken as he rushes to the front. Magnus follows, as fast as he can given the cramped space. Not long after, he finds himself at the end of the path, suddenly faced with a thin piece of cloth which flimsily gives way as he exits through an opening. Right behind him is Alec, but it's the scene in front of him that catches Magnus's attention; a large, low-ceilinged room, gray, spartan and dimly lit, with several children sitting on the floor.

The group is momentarily too distracted by this unexpected sight to notice the slight shimmer of magic in the air―though Magnus is not. The moment he feels it, he turns to his right, throwing up a red, crackling noose that instantly wraps around the culprit's neck. Following his example, his companions brace themselves. It's only after a moment's observation that Magnus realizes he recognizes the person in his grasp.

"You," he says, frowning, hesitating before releasing the woman. She coughs, clutching her throat as he straightens, but she seems more scared than angry. Her red hair is in a somewhat disheveled up-do, and she looks utterly exhausted.

"Magnus," she says stiffly, but with just the slightest hint of something like relief.

"Magnus, who is this?" Alec asks from behind Magnus's shoulder, as though trusting his reply rather than that of this stranger.

"Iris Rouse," Magnus says, eyes on the woman. "A warlock."

"What?" Jace says, instantly suspicious. "Why are you in Rapture?"

He says it as though interrogating, even raising his blade slightly, though Iris looks more annoyed by it, than scared.

"I may be a Downworlder, but I am also a scientist," she says. "I came here to do research, under Valentine's protection."

"Valentine's _protection_?" Magnus says, unable to keep the almost patronizing doubt out of his voice.

"He would benefit from my research just as much as I would," Iris explains tiredly, under no illusions of why Valentine would protect a Downworlder. "On the surface, I didn't have nearly the same kind of freedom to do the kind of work I wanted."

"So you're working with him," Clary states.

"No," Iris says. "I _did,_ but not anymore. I don't mean you any harm, I swear. The much more pressing question is how did _you_ people get here? How did you find my sanctuary?"

There's a pregnant pause, Magnus exchanging glances with the rest of the group, before they all seem to decide to trust Iris, for now. The children they're looking for seem to be here, after all.

"We tracked this," Alec replies after some hesitation, handing Iris the doll. She takes it, lets out a sigh.

"Oh my," Iris says, caressing the doll. "Those Big Daddies may be horrid creatures, but at least they look after the girls."

"Big Daddies?" Magnus says with dry surprise. "That's what they're called? Wasn't expecting something so suggestive from Valentine."

Jace huffs a laugh, but muffles it.

"It wasn't his idea," Iris says. "And don't let the name fool you. They're demons, deeply bonded to the girls."

"We figured out as much," Alec says, folding his arms. Iris ignores his tone, turns to the children. There are four of them sitting on the floor, drawing and talking amongst themselves, all of them with visible warlock marks of different kinds. A few more are spread out across the room, some sleeping on the beds. Over in the corner, Magnus recognizes the shimmery scales on the arms of one girl, the one they cured and tracked here. She's sleeping. In total, Magnus counts twelve children here, all of them girls, and all of them between the ages of five and eight.

"The Big Daddies were designed as protectors," Iris says, "to make sure no one hurts the girls while they're gathering demonic essence from the dead." She meets Magnus's eye. "It's called ADAM, it's what makes the Plasmids work. Splicers are completely dependent on it. Since we lost our raw source for it, young female warlocks are the only ones who can extract what's left from deceased subjects, to recycle it. Targeting them is the fastest way Splicers can get some for themselves, so attacks are incredibly common. Hence the need for protection."

"Interesting outfit for a demon," Alec remarks, eyeing the crude doll, while Magnus tries to ignore the way Iris's explanation makes his stomach turn.

"It's how they're controlled," Iris says, her voice matter-of-fact but still somehow somber. "The suits are heavily warded and modified, to make the demons both more docile and more efficient, in the long term. They're grafted to the inside of it, it's like a permanent cage."

Magnus recalls the Big Daddy's suit and its warlock scratches and markings.

"What do you mean exactly by 'bonded'?" Clary asks. Iris's expression turns a little more tense.

"It's a type of poison," she explains."It allows warlock children to connect with the demon the poison came from. Mutual imprinting, if you will. It makes the girls trust them implicitly, makes them fearless. And it makes the demons solely dedicated to keeping the girls safe."

"I was able to purge the poison from one of them," Magnus says, glancing at the girl sleeping in the corner. "After we killed the demon."

"So that was you," Iris says, her voice softening slightly. "I'm impressed. Even I have had some trouble severing the bond, it's quite complex. Not to mention, my magic is near-depleted just keeping this place safe."

Something about her tone, the way she looks away as she says it, makes Magnus's eyes narrow with suspicion.

"You seem to know a lot about this," he says, his voice cold in a way even he himself is somewhat startled by. Iris doesn't look at him.

"Because I made them," she admits, quietly and reluctantly, looking down at the doll in her hands. "My research created them, the Little Sisters."

Cold shock grips tightly behind Magnus's ribs, before quickly morphing into colder rage.

"You did this?" he asks, his voice controlled and hard as stone, all the same.

"I didn't mean to," Iris says, looking up at him. She sounds justified, as though to cover up her shame. "I didn't know. This isn't what I wanted."

"Well, you seem pretty damn involved," Clary says harshly, folding her arms.

"Would I be hiding down here like some rat, if I were? Keeping these girls safe?" Iris says it with conviction, before she hesitates, turns to look at the children. "I _was_ involved. I was trying to protect them. Valentine had them brought here for experimentation, and he assured me he would kill them if he had no use for them. So I made them useful. I did what I could to keep them alive. But what they became, the Little Sisters..." She spits the name. "I never wanted that. After the civil war, I dedicated myself to saving them, you have to believe me." Her words are met with silence, and she turns to Magnus. "Please, Magnus. You know I wouldn't consciously do something like this."

"There are a lot of things I know you _would_ consciously do," Magnus says harshly. "I wouldn't put this past you. Not after that deplorable enterprise you ran from your home, back in New York."

"I had no choice," Iris says, her voice hardening at the mention of her previous crime. "Warlocks are dying out by the decade. What else was I supposed to do?"

"How dare you try to justify―" Magnus starts, his voice rising along with his outrage, but Jace cuts him off, holding up his hand between him and Iris.

"As much as I support tearing her a new one, now is not the time." His voice is steady, and Magnus grits his teeth as he turns to him. For a moment, Jace seems to regret getting in his way, but then Magnus doesn't object, and he relaxes. He turns to Iris. "One of those things, a Big Daddy. It was carrying me somewhere when I first got here. Why?"

"Because I asked it to," Iris calmly replies. "Or rather, asked a Little Sister to. You were apprehended by Splicers upon arrival, and I was attempting to keep you safe. Bring you here."

Jace frowns.

"Why?" he repeats, though for entirely different reasons.

"Because those mutated things don't take prisoners," Iris says, shaking her head, her tone oddly bitter. "They butcher, and they enjoy it. I suspected someone must want you for something, though I have no idea for what, and that the Splicers were sent to bring you to them. I couldn't let that happen."

Jace's expression is a conflicted one, but mostly he seems relieved. Magnus vaguely recalls Cohen and his desire to add Jace to his collection. Maybe it had something to do with that. Whatever the reason, he can't help but be grateful towards Iris on Jace's behalf, despite the bad taste her other actions leave in his mouth.

"What about me?" Clary pipes up, Iris turning to her. "I know this place, I found the passageway down here. How? Why?"

Iris hesitates, as though deciding how much to divulge.

"You were here for four days," she says, and Clary's expression goes slack with shock. "You arrived by Portal, at the hands of another warlock."

"Who?" Magnus asks.

"I don't know," Iris says, shaking her head. "I never met him. All I know is that he's the one responsible for the wards around the city, every single, entangled layer of them. He created them over the course of many years, stronger each time." She gives Clary a meaningful look. "Someone clearly asked him to bring you here. Much like with your friend, I saw it fit to keep you away from whoever that was."

Clary tightens her jaw.

"It was Valentine," she says. "He's my father."

Iris looks only mildly surprised at that information, but the reaction seems genuine.

"Well, I suppose that would explain it," she says. "He did often talk about the family he had waiting on the surface, as he put it. A wife and daughter, that they'd someday join him and Jonathan down here." She breathes a bitter laugh. "With Jonathan long dead, I can imagine he felt it was time to take matters into his own hands, in making his family whole again."

While this clearly makes Clary feel both disgusted and uncomfortable, she pushes it aside.

"You kept me down here?" she asks, and Iris nods.

"I did," she says. "You were very resistant, however, despite the fact that I saved you. I saw it best to keep you sedated for the time being. Then something disrupted it earlier and you woke up sooner than planned. You wouldn't listen to reason. You took the only exit you could find―" she gestures at the hole in the wall, the passageway― "and ran. Once outside, I couldn't risk going after you again. I'm afraid I'm personally rather confined to this place. Like I said, my magic is very low, these days."

"So, if you worked for Valentine," Alec says after a few moments, always the practical one, "why would you help them?"

He nods at Jace and Clary, and Iris's expression turns almost patronizing as she meets his eye.

"Don't get confused, cheekbones," she says, her voice taking on a slightly more dangerous edge, and Alec inhales, looking away as he rolls his neck in an expression so exasperated it's almost amusing. "If someone comes to Rapture, it means they have a way in. If they have a way in, there must be a way out. It's in my best interest to make sure those who possess a way out don't die before I can take advantage of that."

That explains why she made no effort to save Alec, Magnus concludes. Or himself. They were handling themselves just fine, and it's likely that she doesn't have the kind of access to surveillance that Atlas does.

"So you want a way out," Clary says, any softness in her voice gone compared to a moment ago.

"Not for me," Iris says. "For them." She gestures at the children in her care. "They were taken from their homes and turned into slaves, and I want to make sure they're returned. I owe them that much."

"Yes, you do," Magnus says evenly, but Iris only gives him a glance.

"That said," she says. "Do you have a way out, or not?"

No one responds for several seconds, glances being exchanged among the group as they try to determine whether or not to tell her anything. Then they all seem to reach the same conclusion; regardless of if Iris can be trusted or not, they want to get the children home.

"We do," Alec says, and Iris's expression goes from tense to hopeful. "But we need to get to it, first."

"Where is it?" Iris asks. " _What_ is it?"

"A bathysphere in Smuggler's Hideout," Alec replies evenly. "Belongs to Atlas."

The fact that Iris knows the name surprises none of them, given the influence Atlas has clearly held in this city, to some degree. What's a little unexpected is the way she scoffs at the sound of said name.

"Atlas," she says, with something like a sneer. "Opportunistic lowlife. He starts the downfall of Rapture, and then pretends to be its savior? What a trustworthy fellow, indeed."

"What are you talking about?" Jace asks.

"I'm sure you're aware of the New Year's Eve riots," Iris says. "Who do you think started them? At that point tensions were so high around here, that all it took was some eloquent anger for Atlas to get all his supporters riled up and move against the upper class. After everything Jonathan and Valentine had done to anger people, it didn't take much. It was mayhem."

"You're telling me things were great, before the riots?" Alec says, somewhat sarcastically.

"Of course not," Iris says, annoyed. "It was only a matter of _when_ things would fall apart, not _if._ But―"

"Then it seems besides the point right now, doesn't it?" Alec cuts her off. Iris doesn't continue, instead just gives him an offended, surprised look. "The fact is, we have one way out of here. Just the one. And that way is through Atlas. So whether or not you like the guy is irrelevant." There's a tense stretch of silence, to the point where Magnus notices even the children have started paying a little attention to the conversation. "We get to Smuggler's Hideout, we get his family out and then bring the sub back."

"And what makes you think he'll go for that?" Iris says.

"Because he won't get to leave until we do," Jace says evenly. "These kids are small, but I doubt just one trip is gonna be enough for everyone. We're gonna have to figure something out. But Atlas stays, until we do."

Iris presses her lips together, eyes passing over the intruders turned allies in her midst. Her gaze lingers on Magnus.

"You will get them out of here?" she asks, undoubtedly referring to the children.

"You have my word," Magnus says somberly. "It's the only reason I'm here."

That seems to be enough. Iris nods, takes a breath.

"You'll have to go through Olympus Heights to get where you're going," she says, turning to them all, as a group. "We're just below, at the moment, in the sewers. One of my girls will show you the way up."

Magnus can tell that Alec is trying to hide the relief he feels at gaining Iris as an ally, rather than an enemy, though he doesn't think Iris can. Which might be a good thing.

"Thank you," Clary says, and Iris turns to her.

"Be careful," she says. "Maybe Valentine really does just want you out of sheer sentimentality, but I can't know for sure. Take care that he doesn't get ahold of you."

"I will."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raise your hand if you'd also eat chips from a sealed bag in a box next to a dead person (tbh lowkey self-indulgent bit _just_ for the sake of that video game thing where you just... find and eat sandwiches and shit off the ground. Had to be done). Stay tuned for more shenanigans in part 3!
> 
> (and yes, to anyone who's played BioShock, I'm aware I've completely messed up the map of the city but ssh it's for the sake of the fic, don't @ me)
> 
> Visit me on [the twitters](https://twitter.com/lemonoclefox) and please yell at me if you want to, using _#btseafic_. Also, writing stuff while irl adulting can be hard work, so if you feel like helping me out, check out [my tumblr](http://lemonoclefox.tumblr.com/bts) ( _#btseafic_ works there, too) and maybe treat me to a cup of coffee through the button I've got there?  <3 Thanks


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned. I really did mean to post this months ago, but alas, life has a way of messing with things, etc. But here's part 3! 
> 
> As always, your comments and support mean the world to me, thank you so much for all of it. Let's get this rolling again, shall we? Enjoy!

Olympus Heights seems to be a living complex, and an expensive one, at that. At least, judging by the decor and the size of the apartments―so far, this seems to be one of the most war-ravaged areas in the entire city, from what Magnus can tell.

One of the children staying with Iris does indeed lead them all through a rather intricate passageway, more complex than the one through which they entered the sanctuary below. Once out, she immediately returns back down, and Magnus will admit it brings him some relief. It seems that while they're still trapped in a horrible place, they're at least safe down there, with Iris. For now.

"Swanky," Jace says as they make their way through an apartment, which has been looted and destroyed beyond belief. Magnus hums.

"A little drab, for my taste," he says dryly, looking around. "Though, that could be the bad lighting and the... blood spattered on the walls." He gestures airily, and Alec quirks an amused smile to himself. Magnus catches it, and can't hide his pleased expression when Alec throws him a glance.

"Could you imagine living here?" Clary thinks aloud, pausing to look out the large windows overlooking the city. "When it was still new, I mean. It must have been beautiful."

Magnus runs his fingers over an undamaged gramophone, dust gathered neatly on top of it, untouched, as though it's the one thing in this place no one wanted.

"Must have been," Magnus says, for a moment inexplicably saddened by how wrong it all went.

They try not to linger. A quick glance at a list of residents they find confirms this area was highly exclusive; Iris Rouse is on the list, as is Jonathan Morgenstern, even Sander Cohen. Homes for the rich and famous, it would seem, now reduced to ruins. Among it all, however, they at the very least find a decent-sized seraph blade for Clary, before they press on.

They make sure to contact Atlas once they're on their way.

"You went dark for quite a while," Atlas says. "I'm glad you're all in one piece."

"Yeah, we―" Alec says, then throws Clary a glance. "We got stuck for a bit, but we're fine. We're just out of Olympus Heights."

Magnus frowns, but supposes he can't disagree with Alec's decision to keep Clary's presence quiet, for now. No doubt, Atlas has already spotted her on the cameras, but the less attention they draw to Valentine's daughter being here, the better. Especially after Iris tried so hard to keep her presence a secret. They haven't explicitly mentioned their interest in the children―the Little Sisters―to him, either.

"Good to hear," Atlas says. "You're not far from Smuggler's Hideout, now. Just another while ahead, and you'll find the entrance I told you about. Would you kindly step on it?"

Alec nods, as do Clary and Magnus, even though Atlas can't see. Meanwhile, Jace's pace even quickens, as though suddenly in a hurry, and Alec frowns a little as he makes sure Jace doesn't get too far ahead. Atlas has previously explained to them how to get into where they're going―it's called _Smuggler's_ Hideout for a reason, after all, and isn't exactly advertised.

"Yeah," Alec says. "Got it."

"I'll meet you there."

 

It's more a cave, than anything, when they get there. Wooden structures act like levels and floors, raised above the half-flooded floor and leading down into what seems to be the bathysphere bay―where Atlas's family, as well as the path to freedom, lies.

"There's a control room," Atlas explains over the radio. "You'll have to disengage the sub from there. The damn thing's locked in place and sealed shut at the moment, courtesy of dear Mr. Morgenstern."

"What about you?" Alec asks.

"It's at least a two-man job, this," Atlas replies. "You disengage the sub, while I go down myself and get it open and ready to go. We won't have a lot of time, so you'll need to be ready to open the airlock as well, once I'm done."

Alec hesitates, glances at his companions.

"Okay," he says. "Listen, we, uh― We're gonna need you to stay behind. Once your family goes. We wanna get out of here too, and you've been a huge help, but―"

"But you can't trust me to come back," Atlas finishes. He doesn't sound offended, and Alec nods.

"Pretty much," he admits. A few seconds of hesitation follow, but soon enough, Atlas replies.

"Fair enough," he says. "I'll send them on their way and make sure the sub comes back. I swear it."

"Thanks," Alec says, shoulders dropping with relief. It's clear that he can relate to the agony of having to leave someone, especially family, unprotected.

"Later," Atlas says. "Right now, we've got work to do. Let's get on with it, and we'll all shake hands after. It's about time we met, face-to-face."

"Sounds good."

The sound of Jace drawing his blade catches Magnus's attention, just as he hears scuffing and rough hissing not too far away.

"Shit," Jace says under his breath, and Alec gets his bow. Magnus observes them for a moment, glances over at what sounds like approaching Forsaken, then turns to Alec.

"I'll go," he says, holding out his hand, palm up. Alec seems to hesitate, pressing his lips together, before handing over the radio. Magnus gives him a nod, and starts heading for the door leading up to the control room.

"Be careful," Alec calls after him, pulling an arrow from his quiver, and Magnus throws him a smile.

"Always am."

The vault door isn't easily opened, but with some help from Clary, Magnus gets inside. Apparently having decided that two is better than one, Clary follows, and they climb a surprisingly long set of stairs to reach the control room. Once there, the layout is rather straightforward; there's a large panel in front of an even larger window, overlooking what Magnus concludes is the bathysphere bay. It appears blown out of a mountain, and sure enough, there's a lone sub bobbing on the water, surrounded by metal paneling serving as a floor.

"We're in the control room," Magnus says into the radio. It feels a little strange, being the one to talk to Atlas, when Alec is the one to usually do it. That arrangement hasn't been by accident, though. From the start, they simply decided that it would be easier for there to be one main representative, in order to build a rapport with this stranger helping them out.

"Well done," Atlas says. There's a hitch in his breath, as though he's jumping off from something. "Heading down now."

Magnus waits, while Clary finds the right levers to pull, then sees a man walk out onto the metal grid down below. He emerges from a hidden passageway, out of sight, tall, fit, with short brown hair and suspenders over a dirty white shirt―it's all that can be gleaned from this distance and in the dim light, but Magnus is certain that this must be Atlas.

"Moira," Atlas calls out at the sub. Hearing his voice in person, through a pane of glass rather than a radio, is odd. He sounds hopeful and distressed, all at once. "We're gonna get you out of here, love. We're getting you and Patrick home."

Clary turns to Magnus, as though asking for confirmation to pull the lever, and Magnus gives her a nod.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

It takes Magnus a split, frantic second to register that the sudden voice isn't coming from the radio in his hand, or from Clary. Instead, it's an older voice, a man's voice, steady and reasonable, and it's coming from a speaker up near the ceiling.

"Is that―?" Clary says, the words shaky as she looks up at the speaker.

"I've indulged you and your little exploits since you arrived," the voice continues. He sounds calm, almost bored. "But enough is enough. If you attempt to take that bathysphere out of here, I will have no choice but to stop you."

Magnus swallows. Neither he nor Clary need to name who the voice belongs to; even if Magnus didn't recognize Valentine, the sheer superiority of the tone makes it clear who it is.

Magnus glances back the way they came, then again out through the window overlooking the bay.

"Do it," he says, and Clary doesn't need telling twice. Before Magnus has even spoken the words, she has moved to pull the lever, about to release the sub.

That's when the lights go out, plunging the small room into darkness.

It's only a moment before Magnus's eyes adjust―the bay is still well-lit, and he can still see Atlas down there on the floor. Clary, clearly not one to be put off by threats, yanks the lever, but nothing happens. She tries again, and again, before giving up with a frustrated grunt.

"He must have shut off the power," Magnus thinks out loud, stating the obvious. "We―"

"What's going on up there?" Atlas says over the radio, and Magnus looks down, startled. "I can't even see you, get some lights on, will ya? Let's get this thing moving."

Magnus can see him facing up toward the control room now, still standing by the sub.

"We can't," Magnus says into the radio. "Power's been shut off."

"What are you talking about?" Atlas says, clearly agitated, both in tone and body language.

"It's a shame your friends outside are missing these developments," Valentine observes over the PA system. "They won't know what hit them."

Magnus meets Clary's eye, and she looks as tense as he feels.

"Can the others hear him?" Magnus says in a low voice, not expecting Clary to have an answer.

"I don't know," Clary replies all the same, matching his volume. "Maybe. But if it's just in here―"

"What's happening?" Atlas inadvertently interrupts. He sounds properly impatient now, worried. "Just―"

He cuts himself off, and Magnus doesn't have to wonder why for very long. He has become quite familiar with the shrieking and angry profanity that comes along with Rapture's denizens making an appearance, and it starts filling the air just as Atlas seems to notice, too.

The sudden _clang_ of a large pipe crashing from the ceiling makes Magnus jump, and Clary lets out a startled sound as metallic screeching drags against the window, a Splicer peering through the glass with hooks grasped in its hands.

"I'm hoping my swarm of helpers will be enough of a deterrent," Valentine says over the speaker, as the Splicer is joined in the bay by several others. Atlas, and the sub, have been obscured by the large pipe covering the window, and Magnus takes a step back. "There are quite a few of them out there, after all. Maybe you'll survive them, but if not, I will have to resort to more extreme methods. I advise you not to push your luck."

He enunciates his last words, slowly, and there's something dangerous in his voice that leaves no room for doubt.

Clary yanks the lever again, as though giving it one last attempt, but it's useless, and the Splicer on the window slams his hook against the glass. It cracks, and he grins, hitting it again. Magnus grabs Clary's shoulder.

"We have to go," he says, backing away toward the passage from which they came.

"But―" Clary protests.

"There's nothing we can do here," Magnus cuts her off firmly. "More of those are coming, we need to get back out there. _Now._ "

It's enough to make her go with him, and they make their way back down the stairs as quickly as they can. Magnus tries reaching Atlas over the radio, but there's no reply, and he tries to stay calm; Atlas knows how to handle himself, and his family should be safe inside the bathysphere, for now. The priority now is to fight off these Splicers and get to said bathysphere, and somehow disengage it manually. However the hell they're supposed to do that.

Jace and Alec are not where they left them. Instead, the space outside the door is abandoned, and Magnus feels a tight, suffocating chill rise in his chest.

"Magnus!" Clary smacks his arm to get his attention, before cutting through the knee-high water and then up onto the wooden structure. Magnus follows, immediately catching sight of what prompted her to go―Alec and his parabatai, both in the process of fighting off an assault. Magnus tries to ignore just how relieved he is by that sight.

"What are you doing?" Jace says, almost angrily, when he sees Magnus and Clary running towards them. "The sub―"

"Is stuck," Magnus finishes, slightly out of breath. "Valentine shut the power down in the control room, it's no use. We'll have to think of something else."

Alec's expression turns into one of surprise at Rapture's elusive leader finally making an appearance.

"Valentine?" he says, before turning and expertly shooting down a single Splicer coming at them at full speed. Judging by the number of dead ones already lying around, he and Jace have done a decent job of fighting them off, so far.

"He sent these guys to slow us down," Clary says. She pushes past Jace and Alec, pulling her seraph blade as she heads toward the bathysphere bay. "He doesn't want us to leave."

Most of the Splicers seem to be in the bay, climbing onto the sub as though curious as to what's inside, or spilling into the area outside―toward Magnus and his companions. Atlas is nowhere in sight from what Magnus can tell, but he takes that as a good sign.

"Sure he doesn't," Jace says, following Clary while Alec and Magnus do the same, keeping an eye on whatever stragglers might be left out here to take out. "How are we supposed to disengage it without the controls?"

"We'll think of something," Clary says, repeating Magnus's statement, as the four of them reach the cave-like doorway leading into the bay. "First, let's just―"

An explosion sends them all flying off their feet, and Magnus lands with his back against the wooden structure, momentarily dazed. That's only how long it lasts, however, a moment, before he sits up, eyes wide and blinking to clear his vision.

The bathysphere is on fire. The bay is suddenly filled with hot flames and heavy chunks of metal, spread across the ground as the spherical sub sits there, splintered and burning.

_Oh no._

Alec recovers quickly nearby, his breathing quick as he looks around to make sure everyone is alright. Then he spots the radio, having been knocked out of Magnus's hand as he fell, lying among debris shaken loose from the blast.

"Atlas?" Alec says into the radio. "Atlas!"

There's no reply, and Magnus watches the silent radio for a moment, before turning back to the fire. There's an odd sense of shock in his gut. They failed. Two people are dead, and their way out of here is gone―all because of Valentine. He can't help but feel that shock coil into anger, righteous and frustrated, directed solely at the man who started all of this.

The sound of shuffling draws his attention away from the flames, and he turns to see Jace getting up from the rubble-strewn wood. The structure underneath creaks with their movements and the added weight of broken stone, but it's somehow the least of Magnus's concerns, at the moment.

"You okay?" Jace asks Clary, holding out his hand. She takes it without hesitation, pulling herself up into standing position. She nods, but says nothing, instead holds Jace's gaze for a moment and then turns to the burning bathysphere.

Alec taps the side of the radio with the heel of his palm, as though convincing himself it's broken and can somehow be fixed with sheer determination. The glowing light on the side says otherwise, and Magnus knows Atlas is simply not replying, for whatever reason. Magnus gets up, hears the now-familiar sound of shouting in the distance, unique to the raving mad Splicers that roam this place.

"We have to go," he says, eyes on the blocked hallway beyond the wreckage.

"Agreed," Jace says, but Alec doesn't move. He's staring at the radio in his hand, frowning, and Magnus watches him for a moment.

"Alexander, we have to go," he repeats, adding the name for good measure. It comes out softer than intended, but is seems to do the trick. Alec snaps out of his thoughts, blinking, and throws Magnus a glance. He nods, heaving himself up from the splintered wood and brushing off his clothes. They don't linger for more than another second, before hurrying the hell away from the burning wreckage.

Alec tries the radio again as they go. Most of the Splicers Valentine sent have been killed in the blast, and the few still around are easily taken out by a bolt of magic or the slice of a blade. It's not until they're out of Smuggler's Hideout that their efforts to contact Atlas pay off.

"I'm here," he eventually says, and Magnus draws a breath of relief. The guys sounds distraught and shocked, but it's him. "I'm here, I'm alright. Barely."

Alec exhales, relieved, while Clary and Jace both visibly relax, as well.

"Where are you?" Alec asks, as they all keep walking.

"I tried to draw them away, but― I'm alive, that's was matters," Atlas says through the static, out of breath, even as he lets out a pained, choked sound. "By the Angel... Patrick. Moira, I―" He sounds on the verge of crying, but he pulls himself together. "Get to Arcadia. It's safer than where you are, at the moment."

"What?" Alec asks, frowning.

"Arcadia," Atlas insists sharply. "Just go. Contact me when you're there."

With that, the brief conversation ends, and after trying a few times with no reply, Alec sighs, and turns off the radio.

 

Arcadia is a forest, apparently. A garden with full-grown trees and ponds and small, decorative waterfalls, little wooden, decorative bridges connecting to the paths. According to the informative plaque at the entrance, this is where all of Rapture's oxygen comes from, supplied by the trees and moved through the city. It's an arrangement as beautiful as it is practical, Magnus must admit. He and the rest of the group all look rather out of place, covered in blood, grime, and dirt.

They didn't face too much resistance on their way here, which was for the best, given that they're all shaken after what just happened. Magnus can't help but feel like they failed, like Valentine blowing up that bathysphere was somehow their fault. Like they've let Atlas down, after everything he's done to help them.

Here in Arcadia, it seems rather quiet, just like Atlas implied. After fanning out and securing the immediate area, the group takes a moment to contact him, as asked.

"We're here," Alec says into the radio. "Arcadia."

"Good," Atlas replies. He sounds oddly tense, and Magnus can't blame him.

Alec hesitates, licks his lips.

"Listen," he starts, speaking into the radio. As Magnus has observed before, talking doesn't seem to be his strong suit, especially not when it concerns more sensitive subjects. But he tries. "I'm sorry."

It's meek, but sincere, and it doesn't take more than half a second for Atlas to answer.

"Don't," he says, almost irritably. "It doesn't matter. This is Valentine's doing, it's―" He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, breathing deep, as though keeping himself under control. "It's just like him. Waits until we're almost out, and then he pulls the string." His voice is thick with grief and anger, as though speaking through gritted teeth. "He won't get away with this. Not this time."

Magnus and Jace exchange a look of concern, while Clary's eyes are fixed on the radio, just like Alec's.

"Look, just take a second," Alec says diplomatically, but it's pointless.

"We'll find him," Atlas practically snarls, the words becoming somehow grittier with the radio's grainy sound. "We'll get the bastard, and I'll tear his heart out."

"That wasn't the deal," Alec says sharply. "I know you're in pain, but we can't take him on, not like this. Getting out of here is the top priority."

"And how do you see that happening without a sub, boyo?" Atlas bites, almost sarcastically, in the midst of his hurt anger. "That _was_ our way out of here. And unless your friend can break the wards, all of a sudden, Valentine's the only way out that's left. He owns Rapture, he's the way out. It's just how it is."

Alec turns to Magnus, who just shakes his head to confirm his remaining inability to affect the wards. Alec already knew his answer before even silently asking, of course, and he sighs as he turns to Jace and Clary.

"What do we think?" he says, directing the question at both them and Magnus. He keeps his voice low, and Jace glances over at a green-circled sentry in the distance, as though to make sure they're in its blind spot. Where Atlas can't see or hear them.

"He's got a point," Jace says, folding his arms. "I don't like it, but he does. That sub was our only way out, and we're obviously not getting through those wards. And as much as Valentine wants to keep this place contained, you know he's the kind of person who'd have his own escape hatch. If we get to him, maybe we can get to _it_. Whatever it is."

"I don't know my father," Clary supplies, "but my mother did. And the man who raised me does, his former parabatai. From what I've heard from them, that sounds exactly like Valentine." She nods. "I say we do it."

"Do what, exactly?" Alec says, frowning. "Fight our way through whatever he feels like throwing at us and then storm his office, which he's apparently turned into a stronghold? With three busted shadowhunters, and a warlock who's already pushed himself too hard?"

Magnus frowns.

"Ouch," he says, but Alec's genuinely apologetic and concerned expression when he turns to him takes him by surprise. Magnus breathes a half-awkward laugh, suddenly desperate for Alec not to feel bad about the comment, which Magnus knows he didn't mean anything by. "I'm just saying, you have no idea how hard I can go."

He kind of regrets saying it. Almost. It's not the time, and certainly not the place, for a comment like that. But the way Alec just blinks in stunned silence makes it worth it, as does Clary's eyebrow-raise and Jace's suppressed smile as he very deliberately looks down at the floor.

"Just―" Alec says, opening and closing his mouth for a moment. It shouldn't delight Magnus as much as it does. "Right, just, we're―" He looks straight ahead, as though avoiding any eye contact with anyone. He exhales, gesturing with his hand. "We need a plan. We need to decide what to do next."

Jace sighs, and Magnus appreciates him so quickly getting back to business.

"Well, I hate to say it," he says, "but it's a pretty decent plan, already. Not ideal, but it's the only one we've got left. Right?"

Clary nods, turning to Magnus just as Alec does.

"What about you?" Alec asks. He sounds tired. Magnus takes a deep breath.

"My plan coming here," he says, "was to break the wards from the inside, by finding whoever raised them. If not that, then at least get a message to my friend, Ragnor, on the surface. Since I've been unable to do either of those things, I'm certain Ragnor has tried to find some other way through." He pauses, a heavy weight settling in his chest as the reality of the situation sinks in. "But since there has been no word from my dear friend, I can only assume he has been unable to fulfill his part, as well. In which case, there is no way out of here, for me, you three, or the children. Not through magic, at least not anytime soon, and not by physical means, now that Atlas's bathysphere has been destroyed."

"Meaning?" Clary asks, as though just to get a clear answer.

"Meaning," Magnus says, somewhat reluctantly, as he restlessly rubs his fingers together, "that perhaps going after the head of the snake is in fact the only option we have left. However disagreeable and troublesome that may be."

They all mull that over for several seconds, glancing at each other a few times, but mostly looking at the floor. Eventually, Alec sighs.

"So," he says, looking up. "All in favor of this new plan?"

He raises his own hand, before Jace, Clary, and lastly Magnus, follow. An odd sense of determination settles over the group, and Magnus must admit it makes him feel both motivated and worried.

"Alright," Jace says, lowering his hand and cocking his head. "Let's go cut off the head."

 

* * *

 

Despite being the most unconventional one in her family, in terms of fraternizing outside shadowhunter society, Isabelle can't say she has ever spent much time with werewolves. Maybe it's the aloof superiority of immortality that makes vampires and seelies a little easier to deal with. While shadowhunters are higher ranking in practice, those Downworld groups seem to patiently humor it, rather than accept it―they know they'll outlive every shadowhunter out there. In their eyes, the Nephilim are a nuisance to put up with.

Werewolves are different, from what Izzy can tell. Sure, vampires were all once mundanes, but knowing you'll live forever changes things. Werewolves are still more human, it seems, in the sense that their lives are short and they simply see no point in putting up with being put down. Izzy respects that. Still, she gets the sense that their resentment toward shadowhunters is a little different, because of it. Angrier.

Which is why she's surprised when Maia approaches her, as she stands on Magnus's balcony.

"Hey," Maia says, a little apprehensively. Izzy turns to her.

"Hey," she says, turning back to the view. The sun has long since set, and New York city now glitters in the night, evidence of how it's sprawling and growing in size every day. Not that the view is enough to soothe Izzy, this time. They've been at work for hours, trying to find a solution. But most of it is warlock-specific, which leaves her and the others impatiently waiting around, mostly. It's frustrating.

"You good?" Maia asks. Izzy throws her a glance, and Maia comes to stand beside her, folding her arms against the heavy stone balustrade. There's a carefree air about her, oddly matched with the scars on the side of her neck, left behind by fierce claws.

"I'm good," Izzy says, offering a small smile. "Just... worried, I guess."

Maia nods slowly, and silence falls over them for a few moments. Behind them, in the apartment, Ragnor is talking to Luke, while Simon seems to have convinced Magnus's cat to let himself be pet. It would be a rather nice atmosphere, if it weren't for the thick cloud of dread hanging over all of them.

"Listen," Maia says after a little while, with some hesitation. "I don't know your brothers. In fact, I don't really know _any_ shadowhunters. But I've heard of those two, and... I don't think you need to worry about them too much. They seem to know how to handle themselves."

Izzy turns to her, surprised. Maia seems uncomfortable offering this kind of emotional support, especially to someone she doesn't know―especially a shadowhunter. Perhaps because of this, Izzy takes it all the more sincerely, and she offers another small smile.

"You're not wrong," she says, prompting a slight smirk from Maia. "I know what they can do. We Lightwoods are pretty amazing, after all." She tosses her hair in a mock-haughty gesture, and Maia's smirk turns into a big smile. It looks good on her. "But they are my family. And I know they'd never choose to leave me in the dark like this. Something's wrong."

Maia nods slowly.

"Well," she says, "then they're lucky you've got their backs."

She gives Izzy a pointed look, and something about it makes Izzy's skin feel warm. She turns back to look at the view instead, leaning against the balcony railing.

"So, how do you know Clary?" she asks after a moment, turning back to Maia. "If you don't hang out with shadowhunters much."

"I barely know her," Maia says, with a half-smile. Izzy frowns.

"Then―?"

"Why am I here?" Maia finishes, and Izzy nods. Maia takes a breath. "Simon's a friend. Clary's _his_ friend. Best friend, like pre-vampire friend. And Luke's my alpha, but also the closest thing I have to a dad. And Clary's his sort-of daughter." She shrugs, glancing over her shoulder at Simon and Luke. "I'm here for them."

Izzy smiles, holds Maia's gaze.

"Then they're lucky, too."

 

* * *

 

For a highly guarded and near-impenetrable stronghold, Valentine's office is easy to find. Perhaps simply because it _was_ just an office in the beginning, his own quarters, known to Rapture's inhabitants as the metaphorical throne of their founder and de facto ruler. Because a ruler, Valentine is. It doesn't matter what individualism his randian propaganda promotes, the ideals of which are built into the very foundation of what Rapture is meant to be.

Alec, nor anyone else in the group, feels any better about this plan than he did an hour ago, when they decided to go along with Atlas's intentions. But it's still the best, and seemingly only, option they have to finally end this, and get back home.

Alec hates that it has to be that way.

"You'll find Valentine at Central Control," Atlas explained while instructing them where to go. "Through Hephaestus Core. It powers the whole city, harnesses the heat from geothermal vents on the ocean floor. One of Rapture's oldest structures. Without it, this whole place would collapse entirely."

It's been a little while since they spoke to him now, preserving what little battery the radio has left as they make their way to Hephaestus Core via the metro. Alec is vaguely stunned by the fact that the metro is even still functional―it seems that it's one of the few systems sturdy and vital enough to survive this place, much like most of the city's vault doors and some of its elevators.

Once the small group sets foot in the power station, the atmosphere somehow shifts. With the sheer emptiness of the place, combined with tones of red and orange in contrast to the rest of Rapture's eerie but soothing blue, it feels harsh. Threatening, hot steam hissing and rising, before dissipating into the uncomfortably warm air. The place is relatively undamaged, but there's also a complete lack of people―what people are there are long-dead and scattered around the large, high-ceilinged space. A surprisingly large number of them _aren't_ Splicers. Perhaps this area was hit harder by the civil war, Alec thinks; anyone who controlled the power station would have essentially controlled the city, after all.

Up ahead, beyond the heavy, groaning machinery and placed on either side of a massive doorway, Alec notes two bodies impaled on the pillars. The assassins he remembers Atlas mentioning once, perhaps. Others who have failed to do what Alec and his friends are about to attempt, and who have been put on display as a morbid deterrent because of it.

"You know what," Jace says as they make their way across the metal-paneled floor, "I think I've changed my mind. Let's just head back and call it a day."

No one replies, too on edge and vigilant to really be receptive to light banter, at the moment. They instead start making their way up the wide stairs leading to the doorway with the macabre trophies on either side, and Alec makes a deliberate effort to not take a closer look at them.

The staircase looks nicer than the stark, metallic area around them, as though to signal that Rapture's most important man lives beyond it. Alec shares a glance with his companions, before they all pull out their weapons and head inside. Magnus is the exception, but while Alec knows he's usually capable of fighting just fine without a weapon, he's been looking more and more weary as they've been moving. Alec knows he doesn't have much energy left in him.

Their first real obstacle―once they've passed through what Alec assumes must be most of Hephaestus Core―is a door. A vault door, like so many others they've seen already―except it's clearly more solid, bigger, made to keep more than just high-pressured water out, as well as in. But this is the only direction they can go; besides the door, there is nothing but a giant wall, and behind them is only metal, heat, and danger.

Not that going forward is going to be any less dangerous.

"Right," Clary says with a somewhat annoyed sigh. She eyes the door in front of them, pressing her lips together. "Ready?"

Alec works his jaw, exchanges a look with Magnus. Somehow, his opinion carries weight, especially after everything they've been through, and all the trust has so far paid off. He cocks his head just slightly, and Alec takes it as some kind of permission. He exhales, grabs the radio from his holster, reluctant to use it for some reason. He licks his lips―it's dry down here, and hot, uncomfortable in a different way than the rest of the city.

"Hey," he says into the radio, once he's turned it on. "We're here. Central Control."

"Excellent," Atlas says, relieved. There is some controlled urgency in his voice, as well. "That's good. But, and I don't mean to rush you, I've spotted a gaggle of Splicers heading your way. Valentine must know you're close. They're moving fast. Real fast."

"Shit," Jace says, turning in the direction they came. Alec can't help but agree. That's what they get for leaving the radio off; if they hadn't, Atlas might have been able to warn them sooner. Not that it really matters, now.

Alec feels unusually blind, like they're completely in the dark, with only Atlas to lead them, reassure them. And he's not even physically here―there is no guarantee whatsoever that he'll be able to really help, if something were to happen. Just the fact that all he can do is warn them of an approaching threat, and not actually stop it, is a stark reminder of that.

"The one you've got there is only the first door leading to Valentine's office," Atlas says. "The security should be lower than whatever's up ahead. Should be enough to just force it open."

Alec nods, turns to the door to get to work. It's no more than a few seconds, though, before a loud clanging is heard in the distance, and Alec's entire body tenses up. He looks over his shoulder. After a moment's consideration, he decides that a long-range defense seems like a better idea than waiting for the enemy to get close enough to get stabbed.

"Go," Alec says, turning to Jace. "We'll cover you."

Jace gives a nod, and immediately gets to work on turning the large wheel on the heavy vault door.

"You'd better hurry," Atlas says. "They must be close, I can't see them anymore. I'm completely blind down there. Any luck with that door?"

"We're working on it," Alec says irritably, handing the radio to Jace, who puts it in his own holster. It frees up Alec's hands to draw his bow, nocking an arrow in preparation for the Splicers he can hear approaching beyond the hall. He's not sure when he started considering it a relief that there are _only_ Splicers―the Forsaken are pretty nasty, as well, but at least they seem to be beyond anyone's control. Dangerous, yes, but they can't be used as attack dogs quite the same way.

"Well, unless you want to be ripped to shreds," Atlas says, "I suggest you step on it."

Alec grits his teeth, but refrains from replying, even though Atlas wouldn't be able to hear him. He's spared the thought of it when a Splicer enters his line of sight in the distance, and he looses an arrow into its chest. Beside him, Magnus shoots a precise bolt of magic at an approaching enemy, and Clary is busy helping Jace heave the door open. Alec can hear sounds of exertion from both of them, and he nocks another arrow, fires it.

It's after a minute or so that a loud, metallic creak breaks through Alec's focus, and he looks over his shoulder. The vault door has been opened just a crack, and Clary and Jace work together to pull it open. It's definitely a tougher door than they're used to, but Alec still can't help but feel that it's too easy. Far too easy, given what supposedly lies beyond.

"Come on," Jace says, pulling the door open as much as he can, straining  under the weight of it. He and Clary succeed enough to have both Clary and Magnus slip through, and Alec urges Jace inside as well, before following right behind. He shoulders his bow and grabs the wheel on the other side of the vault door to pull the damn thing shut.

"A little help?" he says in a strained exhale, but he doesn't really need to. Clary has already grabbed the large wheel as well, and she pulls, while Magnus directs what Alec assumes is some very pinpointed magic around the hinges and edges of the door. It's enough to lighten it slightly, and Alec can feel the door move, while glimpsing the group of Splicers rapidly approaching from the other side.

"How're we looking, fellas?" Atlas says, his tone urgent even in its light phrasing. Alec sees Jace throw his friends a glance behind them, before grabbing the radio from his holster.

"We're in," Jace says, out of breath.

"Good," Atlas says, a little impatiently but with audible relief. "There should be an access panel by the next door, Valentine'll be inside." Alec briefly wonders how Atlas can know that, while Jace takes a breath to protest, making a move to help Alec and the others. But Atlas cuts him off before he has a chance. "Now, would you kindly get to his office and kill the son of a bitch."

Alec isn't sure what happens, then. The same moment the vault door is finally pulled shut―Magnus using magic to quickly tighten the large wheel and keep the viciously angry Splicers out―Alec hears the distinct sound of yet another door like it. He turns around, chest heaving from exertion and stress, only to see the vault door leading to Valentine's office close. With Jace on the other side of it.

_What?_

Alec barely exchanges a confused glance with Clary and Magnus, before heading for the second door. It's sealed shut, like the first one, though this one seems utterly impenetrable; instead of the large, turning wheels of other vault doors like it, there's nothing to grab onto. Next to the door is a panel, completely smooth aside from a slight indentation in the middle. There's not even a keypad, or a place to insert a key. Meanwhile, a quick look around the small space they're suddenly in tells Alec that this is some kind of airlock. There's only a single light attached to the ceiling, low in intensity, just barely illuminating the brass-colored walls and floor.

"What's he doing?" Magnus says, asking out loud what they're all thinking, his tone just as shocked and confused as Alec feels.

"More importantly," Clary says, "how did he get in?"

Alec slowly approaches a large, dark window on the wall next to the door. At least he assumes it's a window―it's pitch black, but clearly made of glass. Incredibly thick, assault-proof glass, Alec notes, tapping the surface with his knuckles. If Jace is on the other side of it, there's no way for Alec to tell.

The sudden, low _clang_ of metal startles him, but the surprise is exchanged for intrigue when Alec sees the darkness of the window give way. A black, metal panel slowly lowers on the other side of it, revealing what looks like a very clean, expensive, tasteful office, its lighting actually rather comfortable. The ceiling is high, the walls and beams made of dark wood, and bookcases weighed down with what must be hundreds of volumes line the room. There aren't any windows facing the sea, which Alec finds a bit odd.

Magnus and Clary slowly approach the window to stand beside Alec, the width of it more than enough to accommodate the three of them.

The first thing Alec then sees is Jace. He's standing not too far away from the window, seraph blade in hand and the radio returned to his holster. Alec feels a wave of relief, but Jace only throws him and the others a glance, before turning his attention back to the other side of the large office.

Valentine is there, standing by a large control panel. His office is somehow more lavish than Alec would have expected for any shadowhunter, even someone as ego-centric as Valentine. Then he realizes why there are no windows, like the other most luxurious parts of Rapture; windows leave one vulnerable to attack, and Valentine wouldn't put himself at that kind of risk. Instead, they have been completely blocked by large, heavy metal barriers.

Alec just watches in stunned silence for a few moments, exchanging looks with Clary and Magnus, who look equally tense and confused. When Alec turns back to the scene in front of him, Valentine throws him a look through the window, before flipping a switch on the control panel. A low audio feedback rings through the small room Alec and the others are in, and Alec looks around with a frown. It's only when he hears the sound of Valentine moving across the floor that Alec realizes he must have activated some kind of audio surveillance.

As though he knows they're all there, and as though wants all of them to see and hear what's about to happen, whatever that may be. Just the thought of that makes cold anxiety twist in Alec's gut.

This doesn't feel right.

Jace seems just as confused and apprehensive, standing still and vigilant, watching Valentine with his seraph blade securely in hand, his expression one of angry control.

Valentine doesn't seem to bother with it. Instead, he grabs a golf club, of all things, leaning against the wall. As though he was interrupted in a calm game when Jace burst into his office. With a closer look, Alec can see a strip of green carpeting on the floor, as Valentine poises his club beside a small, white ball.

"I was never really one for golf, on the surface," Valentine says, without looking up. He sounds casual, conversational, but the sound of it still somehow breaks the silence with a jarring force. Alec and the others hear it clearly, thanks to the speakers above. "It always seemed so... well, mundane. Pointless. But I seem to have developed a taste for it." He taps the ball lightly, sending it rolling across the floor and neatly into the hole at the end. He looks up. "Just one of the many habits I've picked up since I built this place."

Jace slowly moves sideways further into the office, eyes on Valentine, as though apprehensive about facing him head-on, confused by his nonchalance. Valentine takes a breath, sighs.

"I suppose you're here for good reason?" he says. Alec sees Jace's fingers flex their grip on his blade.

"I'd say killing you is a pretty good reason, yeah," Jace replies. Valentine nods, eyebrows slightly raised.

"Right," he says. "Well, then _I'd_ say you have about―" he pulls his sleeve back to check his wristwatch― "oh, five minutes? Before you're really in trouble."

"Then we'll make this quick," Jace says, blade firmly in hand as he walks toward Valentine―who still appears completely unbothered. Valentine exhales with something like a tired smile.

"Stop," he says, "would you kindly." Jace stops, as though hindered by an invisible wall. Before he seems to even comprehend the confused shock, however, Valentine speaks again. "Step back, would you kindly." Jace obeys, backtracks two steps. "Sit. Stand, would you kindly."

Jace follows each command without question, an odd look coming over his face, and Alec frowns. There is sudden fear clear in Jace's expression, and for a moment Alec has a hard time telling if his own fear is felt from his parabatai, or himself. Most likely, it's a profoundly worrying combination of the two.

Valentine hums, and there's something so carefree and thoughtful about the sound. It's what makes Alec realize, with a chill, that Jace _can't_ disobey.

"Good," Valentine calmly says, gently putting the golf club back to lean against the wall. He watches Jace for a moment, takes a breath as he folds his hands behind his back. "Powerful phrase, isn't it? Familiar phrase? A little politeness goes a long way. Imagine what one could make a person do, with that kind of power."

For a moment, Alec is utterly confused as to what he means.

Then, unbidden, fragments of a certain voice flicker through his memory, commands and requests, of various natures―spoken in a distinctive, Irish accent.

_"Would you kindly get over there and shut the damn thing off."_

_"Pick that up, would you kindly."_

_"Would you kindly step on it?"_

Alec feels a cold weight plummet into his stomach, as he makes the connection.

_"Now, would you kindly get to his office and kill the son of a bitch."_

He doesn't even know which is stronger, in that moment; the anger, the confusion, the fear, or the humiliation at being fooled. Regardless, he feels utterly powerless, and he slams his fist against the glass, eyes on the scene unfolding on the other side.

If Jace hears it, he doesn't react. Instead, his breathing quickens, his hand uselessly tightening its grip on his blade.

"How―?" he starts, but Valentine cuts him off.

"How am I controlling you with three little words?" he asks. "Consider it... an experiment. I did raise you, after all. There was plenty of trial and error in your conditioning, but I'll admit this particular venture was the most interesting." He lowers his chin, holds Jace's gaze with his own. "You were always stronger, Jace. Better. A special kind of shadowhunter. Clearly, even a decade with the Lightwoods didn't change that. I remember when you were a child, this was just as effective." Valentine pauses. "Like when I made you snap the neck of that falcon of yours."

Alec recalls Jace mentioning said falcon-incident only once, and it was made very clear at the time that it was something that still haunted him.

"You didn't raise me," Jace says, but his voice wavers slightly in its conviction. "Michael Wayland was my fa―"

" _I_ was your father," Valentine interrupts. "Not by blood, but in every way that matters. I raised you, under the guise of Michael Wayland, and I did it well." He pauses. "Though Jonathan brought an end to that, in many ways. It's why I had to send you away. He always was jealous of you. Still is, it seems."

Alec frowns. He turns to Clary, who looks just as confused as he feels, and Magnus, whose brow furrows as he tries to make sense of Valentine's words.

"Jonathan is dead," Jace says, flatly and without compromise. "You made sure of that."

Valentine tilts his head, ever so slightly.

"Did I?" he says. "I thought so, too, for the longest time. But it seems I've been proven wrong. It's just like him, to be honest. Grabbing at what belongs to someone else, like an entitled child. He was always talented, but it seems there's still room for disappointment."

A numbingly cold chill of realization runs down Alec's spine, and the tense silence alone tells him the words are affecting Clary and Magnus the same.

"What―" Jace starts, the word little more than a breath, but Valentine cuts him off.

"I'll admit I'm impressed," Valentine says, something passively praising about his tone. Like that of a father. "By both of you. And Clarissa." He turns to the window, looks straight at his daughter, who makes a grimace of angry disgust. Valentine smiles, half-amusedly, before turning back to Jace. "It took me a little while to put together that it was _you_ who had ended up down here, tearing through my city like it meant nothing. I never expected to see you and her together, especially in this place. Not to mention, I didn't quite expect either of you, or your friends, to get this far."

"Well, we did," Jace says, some steady confidence returning to his expression and his tone. "And we're going home."

Valentine frowns, though seems unsurprised.

"And how are you planning to do that?" he asks.

"You're gonna show us," Jace says.

"Or, what?"

"Or, nothing," Jace says. "You will show us how to get out of here."

Valentine studies him for a moment, before a slow smile shapes his lips.

"Is that so?" he asks calmly. "Well, all the same, I will have to decline."

Jace frowns.

"If you refuse, you die," he says. "If you stay, you die, just like the rest of them down here. You die, either way. That door can't protect you, forever," he adds, gesturing at the vault door keeping the others out.

"Oh, I am well aware," Valentine says. "But you see, I've always preferred to do things on my own terms. If I want a utopia, I build one. If I want success, I make my own. And if I die, it's because I _choose_ to die. And if I can die by forcing your hand, then all the better." He pauses. "Even though I always hoped, deep down, that you'd be strong enough to resist my conditioning. That your will would survive. In that particular way, you are perhaps my greatest disappointment."

"You can't force me to do anything," Jace says, with controlled anger and defiance.

"Oh?" Valentine says, taking a step toward him. "A man chooses. A slave obeys. That is the fundamental truth of this world."

"Fuck you," Jace says, raising his blade in front of him.

"A man chooses," Valentine repeats, enunciating every word as he steps even closer. "A slave obeys."

"I won't," Jace says, but his voice is faltering now, sword at the ready.

"Then don't. Prove that you have a choice, after all. Prove that I can't have what I want, simply because I choose to take it. Prove that I can't take it from _you_. Because I'll be damned if I let you or anyone else take what I've built, from _me._ " Valentine takes a step closer. "So prove me wrong." A pause, dangerously still, as he takes another step. "But if not, would you kindly―" he stops right at the tip of the sword― "kill."

For a split second, Alec half-expects Jace to disobey. But the moment Jace's seraph blade sinks into Valentine's chest, he realizes what a pointless expectation that was.

Jace doesn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

There are a few moments of stillness after Jace pulls the blade out and Valentine falls to the floor. A quiet, vibrating tension hanging in the air, the abruptness of it all taking everyone by surprise. Alec swallows, a strange calm settling over him, as though expecting this to be the end of it all, while getting a distinct feeling that it most definitely is not. Even though this was the plan, this is what they came here to do, it doesn't in any way feel final.

It somehow feels like just another step in the wrong direction.

When the silence is broken, it's by the sudden blaring of alarms, the sound of it making Alec and the others jump. He looks up as a red light starts flashing overhead, hears the Splicers crowding outside the first, bolted door scream and scatter. It's enough to make Alec look back at the large control panel in Valentine's office, sensing that it has something to do with this jarring turn of events. Sure enough―the panel shows numbers ticking down on a previously dark screen. _Shit._

Jace hasn't quite reacted. He seems aware of the alarms, but he can't seem to tear his attention away from the dead body on the floor. Valentine's eyes are half-open, a look of almost smug surprise on his face, which Alec finds as odd as he does disconcerting. He can't imagine what Jace must be going through, what must be rushing through his head―but there's no time for it, right now. If the countdown is allowed to finish, they're all dead. He's sure of that, at least.

Alec bangs on the glass, tries along with Clary and Magnus to get Jace's attention, but even if he could hear them over the piercing noise around them, it would have been pointless. He seems completely caught in some state of shock.

"Jace," Atlas's voice suddenly says from the radio. He sounds distressed, urgent, as though having noticed the alarms and decided it's enough of an emergency to make his presence known. The alarms must be heard throughout the entire city―it would make the most sense, whatever they're for. "Jace!"

Alec feels his body coil in anger, all the same, Atlas's voice suddenly infuriating rather than comforting.

"We have to do something," Clary says, hands pressed against the glass, as though it'll somehow give way if she pushes hard enough. She bangs on the glass with her fist to get Jace's attention, but he still doesn't even look up.

"Jace!" Alec practically shouts it, but it seems that the audio Valentine allowed to come through only goes one way. The glass, on its own, is clearly intended to block out sound as well as physical assault.

"Valentine's activated the city's self-destruct," Atlas says, a clear note of urgency in his tone as he states what should have been obvious. Valentine must have done it just as Jace and the others arrived―making sure he got the last word and the upper hand, even in death. "You'll have to shut it down before the timer runs out." Jace still doesn't move, just stands there, still staring at Valentine's dead body as the alarms blare around him. "Jace! Would you kindly get to the control panel. Please!"

Jace moves. He drops his bloody seraph blade to the floor, the impact muffled by the carpet, and steps right past Valentine's body to reach the panel Valentine was at before. The one with the ticking numbers above it. Alec doesn't quite have a name for the kind of fear the sight of this causes―Jace without will, carrying out the orders of someone whose motives they suddenly don't know at all.

"I'm here," Jace says into the radio, somewhat tonelessly.

"Good," Atlas says with obvious relief. "Now, enter this sequence and we'll stop this place from blowing all to hell."

Alec doesn't pause to listen to the rest, instead turns to Magnus.

"Is there any way you can get through the door? Or the glass?" He's trying to keep his tone under control, but it's difficult.

"On any other day, yes," Magnus says, his tone mirroring Alec's. "But at the moment? No. I couldn't summon nearly enough power to blast through any of this." He pauses, glances between Alec and Clary, pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

Alec swallows tightly. He nods, tries to convey to Magnus that he doesn't blame him for that, and instead turns back to the window. He tries to think, tries to come up with _any_ way to even remotely affect the situation. The blaring alarms aren't helping, an assault on the senses and serving as an inescapable reminder that there's nothing they can do.

Then the alarms stop. Alec is left with a slight ringing in his ears, but it's otherwise silent, and he watches Jace slowly back away from the control panel. He looks dazed, as though now free of whatever Atlas told him to do, and he quickly pulls himself together. He turns to Alec and the others, throws Valentine's body just a brief glance before he grabs his discarded blade and quickly heads for the vault door he entered the office through. He grabs the heavy handle on his side to open it―and nothing happens. Whatever relief Alec just felt at the prospect of them getting the hell out of here evaporates in an instant.

"You did a good thing, Jace," Atlas suddenly says, the crackling of the radio somehow louder than before, in this new silence. Thanks to the speakers channeling the audio from inside the office, Alec hears it rather clearly. "Valentine was a murderer with no regard for his own people, or the Downworld. It's a blessing that he's gone."

Jace doesn't immediately reply, just takes one deep breath after another, tries the door again to no avail. He starts pacing slowly, a new kind of angry fear taking shape in his expression. He swallows hard, grips the radio tightly in his hand, before bringing it up to his mouth.

"Is that right?" he says tightly. "Jonathan?"

There's a pause on the other end, a long one, and Alec's gaze stays fixed on Jace. Then, after ten full seconds of silence, the radio crackles.

"Worked it out, did you?" Atlas says. Alec notices how his accent has changed; instead of working-class Irish, it has shifted to the crisp pronunciation of a rather posh Londoner. Not only that, but he sounds vaguely amused. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Nothing like impending death to get someone talking, even someone like my father. I assume he said something to prompt this revelation? Pity. I would have liked to keep this up a little while longer. But I will say, this whole Atlas-act has been a lot of fun, so thank you for that."

Alec's breathing suddenly feels too loud, and he inhales deeply, swallows hard.

"What?" Jace says. The one word is low, expressionless, stunned. As though he's shocked, despite having his own suspicion undeniably confirmed. He says it to himself, thinking out loud―but it doesn't go unnoticed.

"I told you," Atlas―Jonathan―says, with cold calm. "The people of Rapture made me into something I was not. Granted, I gave them a little push, but... _They_ made me their savior. Not me."

"What, like he cares so much about other people?" Clary says disdainfully, her voice low and angry. "He thinks he's some kind of hero?"

"Certainly not, dear sister." For a split second, Alec has the paranoid idea that Jonathan has somehow appeared in the room with them; his voice suddenly coming from a speaker on the wall puts him a little too close for comfort. "I have no illusions of heroics or righteousness." He sounds almost bored, almost offended by the question. "That was never quite my thing."

Clary looks up at the speaker in the airlock they're basically trapped in, part of the PA system that Alec remembers Magnus mentioning Valentine used at Smuggler's Hideout. Alec frowns, but is too busy focusing on their current situation to be confused about how, exactly, Jonathan can suddenly access said system.

"Then, why?" Clary asks no one in particular, though it's obvious by now that Jonathan can hear her. Jace lowers the radio on the other side of the glass, looking up at what Alec assumes is another speaker like this one, Jonathan seemingly having gone for this mode of communication instead. Like he wants to make this a group conversation. Like he wants to gloat, and make sure they can all hear it. It seems he's not too different from his father.

"Because?" Jonathan says, as though Clary is an idiot for asking and he genuinely can't think of a better reason. There's a shrug implied in his tone. "Dear old dad was unable to see beyond his own bubble, wasted time and energy on undeserving, pathetic people and keeping this masterpiece hidden from the world. He did lay the groundwork for all of it, me included. But that's it. And all parents die, right? I just wanted to expedite the process, which I was unable to do until I myself died. Atlas inspired people in a way Jonathan could not." He pauses. "And you all really stood up to this challenge, by the way. I'm impressed. Especially with you, Jace."

"It's not like I had a choice," Jace spits, looking up at the speaker, as though imagining that that's also where the audio surveillance is. It's Valentine's private, fortified office, but even Valentine must have been paranoid and obsessive enough to survey even his own space. Like in this room, the office has audio channels―though Alec vaguely recalls Jonathan himself, as Atlas, insisting that he was blind in this area, in every way. "You brainwashed me."

"'Brainwashed' is such an ugly term," Jonathan muses. "I prefer 're-educated'. Has a much more scientific ring to it. Besides, that was Valentine's doing, not mine. I just... resurrected the project. Found a new use for it." He breathes a laugh. "After all the trouble I went through. Creating Atlas, giving my father another enemy, one with the angry, adoring rabble on his side... Convincing him I was dead." A pause. "Did he seem surprised, to you?"

No one answers that question. Alec gets the impression that Jonathan would be disappointed if the answer to his question were _no._

"You went through all that trouble," Magnus says, with the nonchalance of someone _not_ currently in a very precarious situation. "And then didn't even bother to do your own heavy lifting to get here."

He looks up at a barely-hidden camera in the corner of the ceiling, in this small, fortified room. There's a few moments of silence, before Jonathan replies.

"Well, I can't exactly move around this place freely anymore, you understand," he says evenly, not taking the bait. "It's true that as Atlas, I have my supporters, but I'm still a popular target."

"Hm," Magnus says. "Sounds like a weak excuse, to me. Like something a coward would say."

"Perhaps," Jonathan says, keeping his cool. "Regardless, I thought it safest to send my Splicers to fetch poor Jace." He pauses. "But then one of those wretched, lumbering demons stole him away, and I was unable to find him or get him back once he escaped. Anyone I sent after him was killed, and there was no way to contact him directly even when I did locate him. Even that bastard Cohen tried to take him for himself, and he knows I can't reach him in his domain. It was... incredibly frustrating." Said frustration clear in his tone, like he's trying to control himself. "Especially given that my sister had also been spirited away, and I'd already killed the warlock that brought her here, for good measure. Let's just say it's been a very rough week. I don't do well with failure."

"Really?" Magnus says acidly. "Never would have guessed."

Alec throws him a glance; despite his own aversion to poking the bear, so to speak, he can't help but be impressed by Magnus fearlessness. He also turns to Clary, whose expression has tightened into something afraid, angry, and almost ashamed. She doesn't seem too happy about being reminded of her blood-connection with Jonathan. Alec can't blame her.

"If Jace was who you wanted," Alec says, looking up at the camera, "why did you help me? Help _us_?"

He redundantly gestures at himself and Magnus, and Jonathan seems to consider that. Alec is really just trying to buy some time, to figure out some kind of escape from this whole situation―and Jonathan, apparently just as much of a megalomaniac as Alec has been told, seems more than happy to brag about his own brilliant plans. Too wrapped up in his success to question whether or not it's a good idea to do so. Perhaps he just considers them all as good as dead, anyway.

"In all honesty," Jonathan says after a moment, his tone now completely casual, "my plan was to take Jace and kill you, as soon as you both arrived. I wasn't planning for him to bring company. He was the only one I expected the Clave to send once I'd fed them the lighthouse coordinates. But you were as good as dead already in that bathysphere, in very hostile territory, so I saw no need to bother with the effort. And how lucky, since I actually ended up needing you. Even though I wasn't expecting you to wake up, let alone join a warlock and wander out of there." He sighs, sounds nonchalant to the point of bored. "But I had a feeling you'd obsessively go after your parabatai, so after the Jace-debacle, I saw no harm in testing out some new ideas with this unexpected variable. So I offered up my services, as it were. And congratulations, Alec, you've proven yourself most useful. As have you, warlock."

Alec bristles. Not just due to the patronizing way Jonathan says it, but the way he refers to Magnus simply as _warlock._ Like it's an insult.

"Oh, don't you worry," Magnus says smoothly. "We'll make sure this ends with you on the losing side."

"Well, I'd love to see you try," Jonathan says. "Given that Jace just transferred control of the city to me."

Alec closes his eyes, gritting his teeth as he exhales. _Of course._ The sequence Jonathan had Jace enter into the panel must have been as much for that purpose as for the purpose of stopping Rapture from collapsing in on itself. It also explains how he controls and has access to surveillance here, all of a sudden. They didn't realize, in the middle of it all. They didn't realize a lot of things.

How the hell did Jonathan trick them all so easily?

"Why does that matter?" Clary says.

"How else am I supposed to bring it to the surface?" Jonathan says. "The legacy of this place. Oh, I have such big plans for the world. Just you wait."

"Then how about I just kill you, myself?" Jace says through gritted teeth, but somehow managing a modicum of sarcasm. "Nip it in the bud."

"Go ahead, brother," Jonathan says easily, almost condescendingly. "I imagine I would quite enjoy that." There's suddenly a dangerous note in his voice, something smug and vindictive, and it feels like a warning. "But for now, would you kindly stop breathing?"

There's a second of suspended silence after the command, but it somehow stretches on for longer, as Jace turns to the window separating him from his friends, a look of confused fear on his face. Jonathan abruptly disconnects with a _click_ echoing from the speakers, just as Jace jerks in surprise, his hand flying up to the base of his throat _,_ his look of fear quickly turning into one of panic.

"No," Alec says, feeling Jace's panic mirrored on his own face. "No, no, no. Jace!"

Jace can't hear him. Of course, he can't; Jonathan would have made sure to disable the audio channel that connected the rooms just moments ago. Alec can't even hear Jace anymore, his choking somehow even more horrible to watch without sound.

If Jace could hear him, perhaps Alec could have used the control phrase―it worked for Valentine and Jonathan, why wouldn't it work for someone else? But it's pointless now, Jace's shoulders heaving with attempted breath, only to leave him almost-gasping for air. But he's not coughing, can't even get oxygen into his lungs, and Alec clenches his jaw so tightly it almost hurts, feeling utterly and infuriatingly helpless.

"How did he get through?" Clary suddenly says.

"What?" Alec bites.

"How did Jace get in?" Clary turns to him. "Something let him pass, without being forced."

"So?"

"So, Valentine _wanted_ him to get in," Clary says, her words quick and anxious. "He wasn't even surprised to see him. _Jonathan_ wanted him to get in. Both of us were brought here, for some very specific reason. He said he brought me here first, so I must have whatever Jace has that lets him in where no one else ca―"

She stops mid-sentence, turns to the panel by the door. There's that small indentation on its otherwise smooth surface, with something that on closer inspection looks like a small needle in its center. Clary watches it for a moment, but before Alec can ask her what the hell she's doing―or practically yell at her about how irrelevant it is―she has placed her finger in the indentation. The needle pricks her, judging by her wince, but its near-immediate effect is what really grabs Alec's attention; the vault door beside it unlocks.

 

* * *

 

Magnus isn't sure how Alec ends up at Jace's side, but suddenly he's there, kneeling on the floor with an expression as frantic as it is helpless.

"Jace." Alec's voice is controlled, in a way that's meant to hide and restrain whatever fear he's currently feeling. Given their parabatai bond, Magnus can't imagine what it must be like to have Jace suffocating on the floor―especially when Alec nearly folds over, as though he's just been punched in the gut. "Jace!"

His voice turns a little more strained, a little more urgent. Jace has fallen unconscious, and any attempt at talking to him would be pointless. But he's still alive, and that's enough. It's enough to make Magnus grasp at the very first solution he can think of, and attempt it, as unpredictable and dangerous as it may be.

The reactions from Clary and Alec are ones of shocked confusion when Magnus leans over Jace and places his hands on either side of his head, thumbs pressing against his forehead. Magnus closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then another, summoning up what strength he has and channeling it with intent. It's not as exerting as blasting open a vault door would be―but it's more intricate, more like surgery than an attack, and it takes its own kind of focus.

Jace's mind―like any mind―is difficult to navigate, but it's far from Magnus's first time doing this. Within seconds, he has found what he needs, and pulls it loose as gently and quickly as he can. The moment he's sure it's gone, he opens his eyes, and unceremoniously slaps Jace in the face.

"Wake up," he says, perhaps a little harshly due to the urgency in his tone. "Come on."

He smacks Jace's cheek again, a little gentler this time, and it does the trick. Jace stirs, a deep, sharp breath forcing its way into his lungs as his eyes slowly blink open. Another breath, a little steadier than the last, and another, while his eyes fall shut again and an expression of scared relief comes over his face.

Magnus lets out a heavy exhale and falls back, practically collapsing into a pile on the floor, where he sits. Alec throws him a look of shocked concern, before turning back to Jace.

"What did you do?" Clary asks, relieved and stunned and baffled, all at once.

"I removed it," Magnus says, the words little more than an exhale. That took more out of him than he expected.

"What you mean?"

Magnus takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He feels dizzy, heavy, but he takes great care not to show it.

"Brainwashing is conditioning," he says, "which is done through association. Association comes from memories and experiences. Remove the relevant memories and experiences, you remove the conditioning." He cocks his head, with a vague gesture of his hand. "In theory."

"So you removed his memories?" Alec asks, glancing at him with a frown that's more inquisitive than confused, as he removes his jacket and folds it underneath Jace's head. There's something so caring and unnecessary about the gesture, and Magnus must admit it's endearing.

He nods.

"Those specific to said conditioning, yes," he says. "The ones I could find. It seems to have been enough to break the control phrase's hold on him. I wasn't sure it would work in this case, but luckily, when it comes to survival, the mind will find a way to fight whatever's trying to kill you. If he hadn't woken up, I don't know what would have happened. I'd still like to do a more in-depth job of this once I get my strength back―"

"Don't think about that, right now," Clary says, and Magnus turns to her. There's something determined about her expression, concerned and grateful. "Jace is alive because of you."

"We wouldn't even have gotten to him in time if it weren't for _you_ ," Magnus points out.

"And I wouldn't have a super comfy pillow right now, if it weren't for Alec," Jace suddenly pipes up, drawing everyone's attention to him. His voice sounds cracked and tired, and his eyes are only half-open, but he's okay.

"He's an important part of the team," Magnus says lightly, throwing Alec a glance. Alec seems too relieved to be annoyed, and he even smiles a little at the teasing jabs.

"Can you walk?" he asks Jace, who heaves a sigh.

"Yeah," he says. "I just took a nap, it's no big deal." Alec seems to hold back a remark at the flippant tone, while Jace heaves himself up his elbows. He turns to Magnus, his expression now sincere. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Magnus says. "Let's just get out of here, before something else tries to ruin our lovely day."

Jace huffs a laugh, as does Clary, before he's helped up off the carpeted floor. Magnus follows suit, standing up and immediately being hit by a dizzy spell that makes black spots dance before his eyes. He takes care not to show it, but a frown from Alec―which Magnus sees once the black spots disappear―makes him realize it's futile.

"You okay?" Alec asks while Clary helps Jace to his feet, as she talks to him in a low voice with words Magnus can barely make out. Magnus smoothly rubs his hands together in a gesture hopefully distracting enough in its casualness.

"I'm fine," he says, with a tone so relaxed it sounds almost bored at Alec's repeated concern. He brushes off his destroyed jacket to keep his hands busy. They're still shaking, but at least if they're in motion, it's less noticeable. Upon realizing just how ruined the velvet jacket has become, Magnus shrugs it off with a somewhat frustrated sigh, leaving him wearing only a lightly patterned, dark button-up shirt and a waistcoat. "You're the one with a gash on your leg. I should be asking if _you_ are okay."

It works. The concerned suspicion lingers in Alec's lovely, hazel eyes for another moment, but it works. Alec glances down at his ripped pant leg, as though he legitimately forgot about getting that particular wound, up until now. In his defense, it's only one of many they've all received lately.

"It's nothing," he says, looking back up and meeting Magnus's eye. "At least nothing an iratze can't help."

Magnus gives a nonchalant eyebrow-raise, tossing his jacket aside onto the blood-stained floor.

"If you say so," he says. His voice turns light and almost teasing, and it prompts a small smile from Alec. _God_ , he does have a nice smile. Magnus hasn't seen a lot of it since they met, which is entirely understandable, considering the circumstances. Still, he entertains the idea of being the one to cause it now―as well as maybe in the future. Often, hopefully. He'd like that.

"We should really get moving," Clary says, Jace's arm over her slender shoulders as they start heading for the still open vault door. "If Jonathan finds out Jace is still alive, he's gonna be pissed."

Jace makes a dubious sound of displeasure.

"Gee," he says. "I wonder what that would be like."

 

* * *

 

The first disconcerting thing is that the Splicers are gone when they leave Valentine's fortified office. They're no longer crowding outside the first door, and while the alarms seemed to have sent them running in a panic earlier, Magnus has the distinct feeling that it's also because Jonathan hasn't told them to come back. Not because he wants Magnus and the others to survive, but because he considers them dead already, especially now that he has gotten what he wanted.

That said, any reason he may have for gathering up his controlled Splicers somewhere else is perhaps even more disconcerting.

"So that's what we're doing?" Jace asks, his tone just as irritated as the frown on his face. "We're just gonna wing it? We have to do more than that, we're sitting ducks out here."

He seems to have recovered quickly. They've walked―rather briskly―what Magnus estimates to be the equivalent of six city blocks by now; they don't have much of a choice but to go on foot, seeing as how Jonathan now truly has eyes and ears everywhere. Though he doesn't seem too concerned with any of his puppets anymore, staying off the radar is still the safest approach―even if they could operate the metro without him stopping them, it's not worth the attention it would draw.

So walking, it is. None of them are really up for it, all four of them visibly exhausted and filthy from barely resting in the past several hours. Magnus vaguely appreciates the fact that he's in the company of shadowhunters; for humans, they're incredibly resilient and tireless, after all. None of them have any trouble keeping up. Not even Magnus, who can feel his body begging him to just sit down, with every step he takes.

"We'll be fine," Alec says tightly in response to Jace's concerns. His eyes are darting around the empty tunnel they're currently in; it seems that Splicers don't voluntarily go too close to Hephaestus Core, or anywhere too close to Valentine's own premises. Maybe they do have some sense, after all. "We just need to find a place to lay low, for a little while."

"Oh, well in that case," Jace says, voice dripping with sarcasm as he throws his hands up.

"I understand your anger," Magnus interjects. "Trust me. Personally, I am furious, I can't imagine how you must be feeling. But we were barely in any shape to take on Valentine, and we're in even worse shape now. Going after Jonathan simply isn't a viable option."

"What, then?" Jace says, taking care to keep his voice at a reasonable volume, despite the tone. "We just let him get away with this?"

"Of course not," Clary says vehemently.

"No," Alec agrees, keeping his voice steady and firm in order to calm Jace's concerns. "We stick to the original plan. We get out of here, and we return with backup. I don't care how many monsters he's got on his side, he will be dealt with. He won't reach the surface."

"And _how_ are _we_ supposed to get out of here?" Jace says, still irritated. "Both solutions we had came from Jonathan, and both of them are gone, if they were even real to begin with. Not to mention, he _owns_ this place now, and has even managed to take over Valentine's Splicers to top off his own supply. What the fuck are we supposed to do?"

No one seems to have an answer for that. Thankfully, though, Magnus doesn't let the silence and anxiety fester for too long.

"What we can do," he says. "We get to higher ground, get closer to the wards themselves. It might not be enough to pierce them, but it increases the odds."

"And if it doesn't work?" Jace says. Magnus doesn't hesitate, just turns to him and holds the young shadowhunter's gaze, as they keep walking.

"We get to higher ground," he repeats evenly. "It's the best and currently only chance we have."

 

* * *

 

Isabelle is climbing the walls by now, stuck in this lavish apartment. It's not that she can't leave―she just can't bring herself to, not when they're so close to finding a way of contacting Magnus. That said, they've _been_ close for hours, now. Every time Ragnor and Catarina come across something that might work, they're foiled by something else, and the atmosphere is becoming increasingly tense. They've called other, trusted warlocks for advice, but they don't seem to have much more insight into this particular kind of situation, and Izzy is starting to understand what Ragnor means when he says this situation is _highly unusual._

She has never felt quite so powerless. In an effort to stay out of the way, Izzy has retreated to the corner of the lounge, studying the many spines of the books weighing down Magnus's bookshelves. It's an impressive collection. Too bad she can't distract herself by reading one; she barely recognizes half the languages in the titles, alone.

"How you holding up, kiddo?"

Izzy starts in surprise, and turns to find Luke standing beside her, his eyebrows raised in a questioning but somehow simultaneously understanding expression. He has a very calming presence, Izzy notes. Steadying.

"I'm fine," she says, a little too quickly and not particularly convincingly, even to herself. "Just... thinking."

"Ah," Luke says, leaning against the bookcase in a rather relaxed manner. "Always a fun pastime. Some might call it worrying, though."

He gives Izzy a pointed look, and she doesn't try to deny it.

"What about you?" she says, can't help the slight accusation in her voice, all the same. "Aren't you worried about Clary?"

"Of course, I am," Luke says calmly, without offense. "But I've done all I can to help her. If there's more I can do, I will do it in a heartbeat. But until then, I have to trust that what I've done is enough."

Izzy watches him for a moment, before turning back to the books in front of her, running a finger along a particularly worn spine. If only it were that easy.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab some food," Maia says, softly interrupting and making Izzy turn to her instead. "You guys want anything?"

"I'm sure whatever you choose will be just fine," Luke says, and Maia scoffs, smiling.

"Right," she says, turning to Izzy. "You?"

Izzy considers it. She hasn't eaten since she got here, earlier today, and she realizes that she has actually gotten rather hungry in that time. She opens her mouth to say something, but something about Maia's slightly amused, expectant expression makes her fall short. It's oddly embarrassing; she's not used to being speechless, like this.

"Uh," Izzy eventually says, shaking her head as she snaps out of it. She's probably just more tired than she thought. "Same. Anything you get will be fine."

Maia gives her a nod, and a smile.

"Great," she says. "I'll be back."

With that, she heads off and grabs her leather jacket hanging on the back of a chair, smacking Simon's arm as she goes. He doesn't really hesitate, seems to want something to do besides just sit here, and he follows her out of the apartment.

Izzy watches them go, even as she hears the front door slam shut behind them out in the hall. She notices Luke glance between said hall, and Izzy, and she frowns at him.

"What?" she asks, but Luke just narrows his eyes with a small smile.

"Nothing," he says, but he sounds a little too amused for Izzy's taste, almost conspiring. It reminds her of her father, when he's teasing her about something. She decides not to take the bait, instead turns back to the books, suddenly feeling vaguely embarrassed.

"So, why didn't you go to the Clave?" she asks, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"'Cause we knew the Clave wouldn't take it seriously," Luke explains somberly. "They prefer pretending that Valentine isn't a threat, that he's just a fanatic with too much time on his hands. But I know him. I know what he's capable of, and I know that the only reason the Clave finally started looking into his plans is 'cause they were pressured into it. Now, it's relevant to their own interests." He pauses, shakes his head. "But that doesn't mean they can be trusted with _this_. Not when the one who's missing is Valentine's own daughter. We all know how his other kid turned out. They'd never help."

Izzy hates to admit that Luke is probably right. The Clave has always been hard-headed, but lately she's been fully starting to see just how far they'll go for their own pride.

"Then how did you know to come here?" she asks. "How did you know about the mission?"

Luke sighs, hesitates.

"Your mother," he admits. "A long time ago, she was a good friend, and we've been repairing that trust lately. I heard whispers about Valentine and asked if the Clave had any leads on him. She said they'd sent someone into Rapture for recon."

"Not just anyone," Izzy says. "Her sons. My brothers. They're both stuck down there, and I can't do anything to help them."

"Hey," Luke says, his expression and tone instantly becoming softer and more reassuring. Almost like a father. "They'll be okay. Just like Clary will be okay. And Magnus will definitely be okay. With any luck, they're all helping out each other."

He suggests it half-jokingly, and Izzy can't help but huff a laugh, smiling.

"That would be something," she says, and Luke offers a friendly smile in return.

"All we can do," he says, "is try to help them from here. We'll find something. _They'll_ find something," he adds, cocking his head toward Ragnor and Catarina. "It'll be okay."

Miraculously, Isabelle believes him.

It's not much longer before they do find something. It's announced rather abruptly, not long after Maia and Simon return with food from a sandwich shop down the street.

"We may have a solution," Ragnor says, oddly wound-up compared to how Izzy has seen him, so far. "But it's risky."

"Risky, how?" Simon asks, instantly alert.

"We can't break through the wards on our own," Catarina says. "Not at this distance, not for the amount of time needed. Not to mention, we'd need to know _where_ to open the Portal. But we can send a message, and coordinate something with Magnus on the other side."

"So send it," Simon says, taking a step forward.

"It involves essentially projecting said message directly into Magnus's mind," Ragnor emphasizes. "Connecting with it. It's the only way to guarantee the message would reach him. But it would blind him to anything else for its duration, and leave him extremely vulnerable."

"Well, is there any other way?" Izzy asks apprehensively. Ragnor turns to her, sighs.

"I'm afraid not," he says. "Not that we can find on such short notice. And I believe we can all agree this is quite time-sensitive. Our options are limited."

Izzy nods, frowns as she folds her arms over her chest. They know little to nothing about Rapture or whatever's inside, but just the fact that none of the people in this room have heard from their loved ones is enough cause for concern. Magnus is more than capable on his own, as is Clary, from what Izzy has heard. And Jace and Alec would never go silent like that, not for this long.

 _Unless they're―_ Izzy stops the thought, right there. They're fine. They have to be.

"Obviously my opinion in this case is an uneducated one," Luke says evenly. "But if it's the only option, I don't see much use in discussing it."

Ragnor holds his gaze, a serious look on his face. In the mere hours Izzy has known Ragnor, his dominant expressions have been ones of dry sarcasm and tired boredom―seeing him like this is a little odd.

"I believe you're right," Ragnor says. He turns to Catarina. "Shall we get to it, then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun _dunn_
> 
> Stay tuned for the fourth and final chapter.
> 
> Visit me on [the twitters](https://twitter.com/lemonoclefox) and please yell at me if you want to, using _#btseafic_. Also, writing stuff while irl adulting can be hard work, so if you feel like helping me out, check out [my tumblr](http://lemonoclefox.tumblr.com/bts) ( _#btseafic_ works there, too) and maybe treat me to a cup of coffee through the button I've got there?  <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, at long last -- the fourth and final part of this self-indulgent adventure.
> 
> For anyone who's curious btw, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qrhp_-Upe04) is a pretty decent trailer for the actual game, if you want an idea of what it's like (the trailer also includes the song this fic is named after, yay). And [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DhmXafutbU) is a (pretty funny imo) 5-minute summary of the whole damn game. Just for funsies.
> 
> Anyway! The conclusion awaits. Enjoy.

The further they get from Hephaestus Core, the more perilous it gets. Although Magnus previously would have said that all of Rapture looks pretty much the same, having seen more of it has changed his mind. Each part of the city that they've been in clearly had a different, distinct purpose in its heyday, and it all seems to have been run pretty damn efficiently until the civil war and subsequent collapse.

The area they're in now seems meant for banquets and balls, the ceilings higher and more ornate, even in the corridors. Just the presence of large windows along the walls, boasting a higher-floor view of Rapture, shows that this particular place is solely intended for the upper class and their expensive tastes and entertainment. It makes the presence of Splicers and Forsaken feel all the more uneasy, their numbers steadily increasing as Magnus and the others move along. The Forsaken are easy enough to deal with; they tend to move in small hordes, and aside from their violent tendencies, they don't have much brainpower to make them much of a threat. As always, the Splicers, in all their shapes and forms, are worse.

It's in an extended period of peace and quiet that something else disturbs the group's advance through the city. Just as they enter another ornate, though more precariously constructed, corridor.

"You hear that?" Clary says, raising her seraph blade. Magnus does hear it, not too far ahead; the sound has become familiar now, unmistakable in its heavy, gargantuan gait.

"Sounds like a Big Daddy," Jace says, with just the slightest layer of humor, as though still not quite able to take the name seriously, even after seeing what they can do and knowing what they are. And knowing that all they're trying to do is protect innocent children―not that that makes them any less hostile, or dangerous. With this in mind, Jace's poise changes into one of vigilance, as does Alec's as he grabs his bow.

"Go around?" Jace says.

Alec shakes his head as he leads the group through the large doorway ahead. His eyes dart upward, and Magnus gasps softly in awed surprise. It's a ballroom, with a high, domed ceiling and decorative pillars, walls cracked and peeling but still showing off some impressive murals and patterns, a bit more classical in style than the art deco they've seen so far. Tall windows cover the opposite wall, presenting perhaps the loveliest view yet of the city outside. As Magnus and the others fully enter the hall, he sees that there's another doorway at the other end of this wall. It's identical to the one they just passed through, and there's a large fireplace between the two.

"According to the map, it'll be a major detour," Alec says in response to Jace's suggestion; they've identified Point Prometheus as the city's highest point, and that's where they're now headed. It's already a long trek, as it is. "We can't afford to waste time."

His eyes dart around the hall, taking in the scattered corpses of both spliced and uncorrupted humans, as well the overturned furniture and crashed chandeliers. At least there don't appear to be any leaks in this particular area.

Magnus can only imagine how grand this hall must have been in its prime, much like the rest of Rapture. The fireplace is massive, but cold and black rather than full of warm, softly lighting flames, and one or two of the pillars seem just about ready to crack in half. Magnus vaguely hopes they're just for decoration. If not, that matching crack in the ceiling, snaking its way from the doorway they pass through, has a bigger load to carry than is ideal.

"I thought we decided we weren't in fighting shape," Jace points out, a little dryly.

"We're not," Alec says. "But we know how these things work, now. If we just do it like last time, it should be pretty quick."

He turns to Magnus, as though to ask if Magnus is okay to do just that, and Magnus gives a nod of confirmation. While he definitely isn't at the top of his game at the moment, like Jace just pointed out that none of them are, he's certain he'll be able to at the very least hold the demon in place for just a moment. During their first and so far only encounter with a Big Daddy, one such moment was enough.

Alec nods back, as the four of them keep moving across the rubble-strewn floor. Just as the rumble of the approaching demon seems to spread through the air of the large hall, the lumbering creature itself comes into view, a small child sitting on its shoulder. The glowing discs on the demon's helmet turn from yellow to red as it spots the intruders.

"Right," Alec says, nocking an arrow. "Just―"

It hits Magnus out of nowhere, sudden pitch darkness, blocking out any and all sensations around him. He stops walking, is somehow forced to.

"Don't be alarmed," a familiar voice says. There's a slight echo to it, and Magnus is somehow certain that the sound is coming from inside his mind, yet from somewhere else, from someplace beyond this submerged city. He takes a deep breath, vaguely aware that his body has not only stopped moving, but won't move on his command. "I know this is jarring, my friend. But we don't have much time, so I shall be brief."

 _Ragnor_. Magnus wishes he could tell him just how relieved he is to hear his voice, but whatever this is seems to be a one-way conversation. He can't move, can't open his mouth to speak, not even send some kind of mental response. He's frozen, blind.

"As you must have realized, the wards around Rapture are still in effect," Ragnor says, his voice steady but urgent. "We can't pierce them from the outside, as I assume you've been unable to do from the inside. But if we work together, we should be able to open a Portal. One more stable and lasting than the one that brought you there."

Magnus hears the faintest sound of other voices, somewhere in the distance, yet somehow in his more immediate vicinity. There's a loud metallic groaning vibrating through the air. Is something happening around him? Are Alec, Jace, and Clary okay? He can't quite tell; Ragnor's voice drowns it all out.

"Listen carefully," Ragnor says. "In three hours' time, be as physically close to the wards as you possibly can. Target them, and we shall do the same in that moment. I suggest the spell you used that time in Berlin, it should be enough. Once the wards are breached, we will mutually create a Portal to bring you home." There's a loud crash somewhere closer by, but as though muffled and heard through thick walls. Magnus swears he feels someone tug at his arm, hears distressed voices and shouting, but he can't respond. "One last thing," Ragnor says, his tone softening slightly. "It seems that three shadowhunters have found their way down there too; the Lightwood boys, and Clary Fairchild. If you're able, please do try to see them home, as well. Best of luck."

It's gone as suddenly as it appeared, the black void suddenly lifted like an opaque veil, and Magnus inhales sharply, deeply. He blinks, the absence of darkness somehow too bright, the sounds around him turned up in volume so suddenly that he flinches, throwing his arm up in front of his face. His gaze darts around, as he tries to get his bearings.

All he has time to register is a sense of utter mayhem, before he's pushed to the ground.

 

* * *

 

Alec opens his eyes, coughing, face down in a puddle. Cold, tangy seawater burns his throat, and he heaves himself up to get it out of his lungs, hacking and retching just to be able to breathe. Leaning on his elbows, he squeezes his stinging eyes shut again, and it's not until he's able to draw a ragged breath of air that he tries opening them once more.

"Alec!" The sound of Clary's voice cuts through the groggy haze, and Alec blinks, trying to clear his vision. There's the distinct sound of hurried footsteps in puddles of water, before a pair of hands find Alec's shoulders and help him sit up properly. "Are you okay?" Alec tries to reply, but just ends up coughing again, so he settles for a nod. Clary draws a breath of relief. "Thank the Angel."

Alec inhales deeply, slowly. His lungs and his throat are still raw, but at least he can breathe.

"Is everyone else okay?" he manages to ask, his voice raspy and raw.

Clary supports his weight as he sits up more comfortably, knees pulled up in front of him. He lifts his eyes and takes in their surroundings. The big, open hall they're still in is now in ruins, fallen structures and debris covering most of the area. Alec remembers a window bursting, water flooding inside and hitting him like a sledgehammer―but the window seems to have been hastily repaired. A giant sheet of metal has been lowered to replace the thick, shattered glass originally meant to keep the pressing ocean at bay. It must have been a failsafe, Alec thinks. A failsafe would also explain why the space isn't flooded anymore, so much as very wet, the water that rushed in no doubt drained in a matter of moments. He can't imagine that an underwater city would be without such precautions.

There's a pillar lying on the floor, the end of it shattered from smashing into the window and then being crushed by the lowered metal barrier. Underneath it is a Big Daddy, trapped and unmoving, the previously lit-up glass on its large helmet now cracked and dark. Alec remembers the creature having the upper hand when it appeared, the battle that followed quick and messy, its attacks countered with less finesse than usual due to exhaustion and confusion on behalf of the shadowhunters. Magnus, a key part of taking the damn thing down, suddenly went entirely still, making him a target as well as one less resource to their advantage―which only made the situation more precarious.

But at least they killed the demon, even without Magnus, and even if the endeavor ended up risking far too much and nearly drowned them all.

Recalling the fireball the demon launched just before the window broke―a skill the previous one they faced did not have―Alec turns in the direction it was sent. Where Magnus was standing, and where he no longer seems to be. It seems Alec turns a little too quickly, however, because he's hit with a sudden, pounding headache, making him wince, and he closes his eyes. He presses his hand against his forehead, as though it will dull the sensation, only to feel warm blood against his fingers, matting his hair.

"Hang on," Clary says, fumbling to get something from her pocket. "Looks like you bumped your head when the wave hit."

Alec rolls his eyes to himself, already tired of how many times he's been knocked on the head since he got to this place. He lifts the hem of his shirt nonetheless, allowing Clary to use her stele to activate his iratze, and within seconds, the pain and grogginess start to subside.

"Where are they?" Alec asks, recalling Magnus's vacant expression and stillness.

Clary shakes her head, puts her stele away.

"I don't know," she says. "I think I saw Jace push Magnus out of the way, they must have gotten caught on the other side."

She nods at a mountain of debris that blocks the hallway they came from, where the demon's fireball seems to have cracked and shattered the already fragile wall above the doorway. Part of the floor above has caved in, a large gaping hole now marring the ceiling.

There's a troubled look on Clary's face. She's drenched from head to toe, her red hair hanging in limp strands, and Alec doesn't feel much better off. He can feel the cold seawater plaster his clothes to his skin, and he shivers.

"We'll find them," he says, exhausted but resolute, in spite of the unease that plummets into his stomach at the sight of the blocked hallway. He heaves himself up from the wet floor, Clary rising, as well. "We'll keep going, they'll go around."

He already knows there's no use in trying to get through that rubble, not without risking the whole damn wall coming down and burying them all.

"How do we know they're―?" Clary starts carefully, but Alec shakes his head.

"Jace is alive," he says with utmost certainty. "I can feel it. And Magnus..." He briefly entertains the idea of Magnus not being alive, then immediately pushes that horrendous thought to the back of his mind. "Somehow, I doubt he'd let himself be beaten so easily."

Clary clearly notices the familiarity of the tone, and she frowns slightly.

"You know him well?" she asks. For some reason, the question takes Alec off-guard, and he shakes his head, mouth downturned in an exaggerated frown.

"No," he says simply. "No, I just―" He clears his throat. "He's, uh― He's quite magical, that's all. Very good at magic. Skilled, I mean. In general. I'm sure he's fine."

Clary just watches him, an odd look on her face―one a lot like the one she got at Magnus's "going hard" comment on a previous occasion―and Alec feels the uncomfortable sensation of pure embarrassment creep up his neck. He blames the bump on his head for his uncharacteristic fumbling.

Clary nods slowly.

"Okay," she says. Alec really hopes he's imagining her amused tone. "Well, let's go find them, then."

She smacks his arm in a gesture that's a little too familial for Alec's taste, but he lets her off with a disapproving frown as warning, before following her out the other side of the wrecked hall.

 

* * *

 

Magnus has known quite a few hangovers in his long life, none of them pleasant. What he's feeling at the moment feels an awful lot like a hangover, except he can't remember drinking a single drop of alcohol in the last twenty-four hours.

"Great, you're up." Magnus starts, looks around, and spots Jace standing in front of him, arms folded. "How you feeling? I'd use a healing rune, but―" He gestures redundantly at Magnus's half-demonic self, and Magnus sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. The wall he's apparently propped up against at the moment, sitting on the floor. He winces at the feeling of a sharp piece of stone digging into his back, but other than that, he can't discern any physical injuries.

"What happened?" he asks, eyes only half-open as he tries to wake up properly. He hasn't been asleep, not really; after that projected message just now, he just feels... well, hungover.

"Well, the Big Daddy made his appearance," Jace says. There's something short about his tone, almost like he's annoyed. "We fought it off, just barely. This happened." He gestures at a mountain of debris blocking an already collapsed doorway, and Magnus recognizes it as the doorway through which they first entered that large hall. "And here we are."

Magnus blinks, eyes the blockage. Without the light from the windows in the hall beyond, this hallway is even darker than it was before.

"What the hell was that, before?" Jace says, and Magnus gives him a confused frown. "You just stopped, your eyes went all white. It was like you just shut off for a minute, couldn't even get you to move."

Magnus exhales tiredly, can imagine how it must have looked.

"It was harmless," he assures Jace, but it's not what Jace is asking.

"Bullshit, it was harmless," he says. Oddly, he sounds almost concerned now. "You would have died if I hadn't pushed you out of the way. You didn't even react when that thing came at us. It was like you slept through an earthquake. Not to mention, we had to beat it without you, without any kind of plan."

Magnus suddenly realizes something.

"Alec and Clary," he says urgently, getting up from the floor―a little too quickly, perhaps. "Are they―?"

"Should be fine," Jace says, but he doesn't sound entirely convinced. "Alec is fine, or I'd know. And Clary was with him. If he made it, she probably did, too."

Magnus nods, relieved.

"Good," he says. He feels weak, but he barely allows himself to waver on his feet.

"So what was it?" Jace asks evenly. "What happened?"

Magnus holds his gaze, tries to think of how to explain it.

"It was a message," he says, deciding to keep it simple. "From Ragnor, on the surface. It seems they've found a way to get us out of here."

"They?" Jace asks, confused and relieved hope in his voice. It seems he has already forgiven Magnus for essentially bailing on them when they needed him.

"He didn't specify," Magnus says. "But I suppose it would make sense for him to have at least another warlock, to help. I can't imagine he could manage was he's suggesting on his own."

"Well, that's great," Jace cuts in, impatiently. "So what's the plan?"

"It's a little complicated," Magnus says, as he moves toward the blockage of debris to get a closer look. He knows it's unlikely they'll get through it, but it's worth a glance; Alec and Clary must have realized the same thing, and continued on the original path. Magnus looks down at the floor, sees water trickling from beneath the rubble. That can't be good. "But it still involves reaching higher ground. We need to get as close to the wards as possible to maximize our chances of getting through―"

He stops, hand freezing in mid-air as it traces along the debris. Jace comes up beside him.

"What?" he says.

"Listen," Magnus says, his voice low. Jace frowns, but then seems to hear the sound as well, clear now that they're up close.

"Crying," he says.

Magnus doesn't turn to him, instead looks over at the opposite wall, where there's the distinct but very soft sound of weeping. He slowly makes his way along the newly-formed wall of debris, and he can hear Jace keeping his distance. It's probably a good idea; if this is another Little Sister, which is likely, a shadowhunter might not be the best thing for her to see right now.

There's a small crevice among the debris, near the wall, and when Magnus leans down to look, there is indeed someone hidden inside. A girl, no older than five, picking away chunks of rubble with her hands as though slowly digging her way through it all, softly crying as she does. Sympathy mingles with concern as Magnus realizes she'll eventually end up buried underneath the debris if she continues and makes it collapse. He looks over at Jace, gesturing at him to come closer. The girl hasn't noticed Magnus yet, her back turned to him, but judging by how it went last time they tried to apprehend a Little Sister, having some backup seems like a good idea.

When Magnus carefully takes the girl by the arm, she resists. Not as aggressively as the first one they encountered, but he still hates having to grab her like this. He hates putting her through this when she's clearly already scared and _mourning_ , desperately trying to reach her fallen protector on the other side of all this rubble, despite how dangerous it is. Her eyes are pale and glowing, a sharp contrast to her dark skin, and they're trained on Magnus as Jace helps him hold her still in order to be cured.

It passes quickly, Magnus successfully purging the demonic poison from the girl's system, just like last time. Except unlike last time, it leaves him feeling drained and weary, and he does his best to stay upright as Jace releases the girl to stand on her own. With Magnus on one knee, they're at eye-level.

"It's alright, sweet pea," Magnus says, before she can run off. His soft tone seems to soothe her somewhat, and he drops his glamour to reveal his cat eyes, for good measure. One warlock to another. "I'm Magnus. What's your name?"

The girl hesitates, presses her lips together, looking away and inadvertently revealing the gills on her neck. She glances between Magnus and Jace, before her eyes―now a warm brown―settle on Magnus, as though deciding he's the more trustworthy of the two.

"Madzie," she says, in a very quiet voice.

"Madzie," Magnus says with a small, friendly smile. "We're here to take you home, all of you. But I need you help me with something so we can do that, okay?" Madzie nods, seems to take the upcoming task very seriously. "I need you to talk to Iris for me, the lady who looks after you."

Madzie frowns.

"Nana?" she asks, and Magnus nods.

"That's right," he says. "Could you tell her to meet me at Point Prometheus?"

Madzie looks down at the floor, worries at the hem of her dress with her fingers, lips pressed together.

"We don't go there anymore," she says quietly, and Magnus feels a swell of sadness and anger at the speculation of _why_ they don't go there anymore.

"I'm sorry," he says. "But it's really important, okay? We have to go there to get home." Madzie seems to consider that, and she looks back up, chin tilted down. She nods, and Magnus exhales in relief. "Thank you, Madzie. Point Prometheus in three hours, okay? Tell Nana to bring all of you. And we'll go home."

Madzie nods, a little more confidently, this time. She glances at Jace, then back at Magnus, who gives her a nod and a smile, prompting her hurry to the nearest vent and climb up into it, out of sight. Magnus rises from the floor, steadies himself as he stands. He's exhausted, just like he's been exhausted for god knows how long now. It's disconcerting, how he can't seem to regain his strength.

"Well, now I _really_ wanna know what the plan is," Jace says, and Magnus turns to him. He sighs, and explains as they start moving.

 

* * *

 

Alec can feel the muscles in his shoulders and neck spread a dull ache up to his head, tensing and tightening involuntarily. He rolls his shoulders as he and Clary make their way down yet another corridor, but it's not much use for the pain.

"Well," Clary says, after a full minute of silence, "at least we're on the right track." She nudges Alec's arm with her elbow, and he throws her a glance, which she must interpret as disapproving. She gets a slightly apprehensive expression, and she sighs. "I mean, it's a bright side."

"Yeah," Alec says dryly. "Half our group is unaccounted for, Magnus was in some kind of trance last we saw him, and we're still stuck under the ocean with even more enemies than before, and no way out. But sure. Bright side."

Clary lets out a slight groan, as though steadily losing patience with Alec's immovable pessimism. He half-regrets his comment, but he can't quite help it; he's worried. He doesn't like being worried. He doesn't handle it well.

"You don't think I know that?" Clary says, but she sounds more tired, than offended. "Just thought I'd do something besides state the obvious."

Alec glances at her, walking beside him. He feels a little guilty about snapping at her now, but he doesn't say that out loud.

They keep going in silence for a little while, still not that far away from the ballroom they just left behind. Alec wonders what happened to the Little Sister that accompanied the Big Daddy; he remembers seeing her dart across the floor during the fight, as though heading to safety, or perhaps just continuing the route she and her protector were already taking.

Alec didn't see her after the hallway collapsed, the one where Jace and Magnus must have escaped to. He hopes she's okay.

"Do you think he might have turned out different?" Clary asks after a little while, somewhat tentatively. "If my mom had raised him? Jonathan, I mean."

Alec is a little surprised by the question, and he catches Clary's eye for a moment, before looking back straight ahead.

"I don't know," he says. "In my experience, how you're born has just as much to do with what you become, as how you live does. What shapes you." He has a brief thought of Jace, growing into the good person he is today, despite his horrid past. Even Magnus comes to mind, a half-demon who, despite that heritage, is one of the kindest people Alec has ever met. "Not sure about Jonathan, though. But who knows."

"Yeah," Clary says, quietly. She seems disappointed, defeated, as though she was hoping there was at least some hypothetical kind of hope. That all of this could have somehow turned out differently.

"He's your brother," Alec says, mostly thinking out loud.

"He is," Clary confirms, somewhat bitterly. "I've never actually met him, but yeah. I've only ever heard about him. From others, from my mom. Why she wanted to give him up, in the first place." She scoffs. "I guess I kind of get it, now."

She adds it with some somberness within the wry tone, and Alec glances at her suddenly drawn face. He senses that there's more to the story.

"Am I missing something?" he asks, hoping it doesn't come off as too blunt. Clary sighs.

"Valentine, he―" she starts, pauses. "He experimented on my mother while she was pregnant. First with Jonathan, then with me. He injected her with pure angel blood before I was born, but with Jonathan... he used pure demon blood. Which apparently reacts in a particular way with shadowhunters. And while being raised by Valentine definitely must have messed him up, he was pretty horrible to begin with. At least from what I've been told." She swallows, her voice taking on a more bitter edge. "Before she died, my mom told me about how Valentine had done the same experiments on someone else, as he did with me. A boy. Raised him, even gave him and Jonathan the same name."

Alec doesn't immediately reply, although he immediately makes the connection; Clary's mother must have been talking about Jace, and Clary herself realized it when Jace was confronted with the truth from Valentine.

This revelation would have shocked Alec just twenty-four hours ago, but after everything he's seen and learned here, it doesn't take more than a few moments for it to mostly sink in.

"That explains why Jonathan needed you," he thinks out loud, remembering Clary's unspoken conclusion that her own blood would open the door to Valentine's office. "And Jace. Why he couldn't just get to Valentine himself, or use someone else. Valentine must have made sure demon-blooded creatures couldn't get in. But there are still mundanes left," Alec muses, remembering Sander Cohen. "And Forsaken. They don't have demon blood."

"Well," Clary says, frowning, "Iris did mention Valentine's obsession with getting the family back together. Maybe he was hoping for me coming here, if not Jace. Angel blood required, as an extra precaution. He'd want to leave the city to right person." She pauses. "Though, obviously, he changed his mind. Can't imagine he'd give the city up to _anyone_ , by the time we got here."

Alec sighs.

"It's not important, anymore," he says. "Jonathan clearly already got what he wanted from you. What matters is making sure he doesn't bring all of this up to the surface."

Clary must hear something in his voice, a certain edge that Alec can't quite hide, because after a few seconds of silence, she speaks up. Though she seems to hesitate, as though afraid to overstep.

"You know this isn't your fault, right?" she eventually says, carefully. Alec swallows, angles his face slightly more away from her. "Jonathan, Atlas... We all fell for it. The whole city did, even Valentine."

"Yeah well, I shouldn't have," Alec blurts, his voice tight.

"Alec." Clary stops walking, making Alec stop as well, letting out a frustrated sigh as he turns to her. She's quite small from his perspective, but by no means timid. He supposes he can respect that. "He used you. Just like he used Jace, just like he used all of us. Like he's been using those little kids, and like he's been using every person in this place for years, to further his own agenda. It's what he does. You couldn't have known."

Alec works his jaw.

"That's the thing," he says. "I knew something was wrong from the start. I _felt_ it. I just― I guess I told myself we'd be able to handle it, whatever it was. That we had the upper hand, and that we could turn back if we needed to. And the whole time, _he_ was the one in control, of everything. From the moment we arrived, even before that. He's the one who _brought_ all of us here, Magnus being the only exception. He _wanted_ me to think we had the upper hand, and I fell for it. So yeah, it's kind of my fault."

"You were desperate," Clary counters. "What were you supposed to do?"

"I'm supposed to be better than that," Alec says without thinking, some anger seeping into his voice. "Okay? But I wasn't. And now, we're not only stuck here, but we helped a maniac who's somehow even worse than Valentine take control of this place. We've brought him a huge step closer to taking over the surface, and Jace almost died, 'cause of―"

"But he didn't." Clary is resolute, and somehow manages to cut him off. "He didn't die. He survived. We've all survived, and we're getting out of here. I don't care what Jonathan does, he is not stopping us from going home."

With that, she starts walking again, a new kind of resolve and anger in her expression. Alec watches her for a moment, before heaving a heavy sigh and following, his long strides easily catching up with her steps.

 

* * *

 

"Okay," Jace says, lowering the map in his hands. "I stand corrected. It would not have been worth the detour."

Magnus agrees, though he doesn't say it out loud. He's just so _tired._ So tired. He does his best to drag along corridor after corridor, and even hangs back when he can, to let Jace deal with the sporadic Splicers they come across. Jace, who is much too energetic for someone who was on the brink of dying, just two hours ago.

"I, for one, am rather enjoying this lovely stroll," Magnus says, voice dripping with sarcasm. It's all he can muster, and Jace throws him a raised eyebrow.

"You okay, over there?" he asks, with a tone that's jabbing as well as genuinely concerned. A little concerned.

"I swear, I'll have an uncommonly strong aversion to that question, after all this," Magnus says dryly, thinking of all the times Alec has asked him the very same thing. Though, oddly, it never really annoyed him when Alec asked it.

"Valid question, though," Jace says, undeterred. "You're a mess. Look, your hair's gone all flat."

He flips a strand of Magnus's hair with his finger, and Magnus throws him a scathing look.

"Touch my hair again," he says calmly, "and I will turn you into a snail."

"Uh-huh," Jace says. "Maybe save that threat for when you look less dead on your feet."

Magnus takes a deep, deep breath, looking straight ahead to keep himself from giving in to the―likely unintentional―provocation. He's usually not the irritable type; he tends to keep a level head, and knows how to keep up a calm, friendly appearance even when it clashes entirely with his mood. He's just so damn _tired._ And worried. Regardless of Jace's reassurances of knowing that Alec is fine, Magnus worries about both him and Clary.

He tells himself that they'll be alright. They're shadowhunters, after all, and Magnus was definitely the worst off of the group when they encountered that Big Daddy. If he's still standing, so are they.

The detour Alec was against taking seems to be leading Magnus and Jace to an intersection of sorts, where a few corridors and rooms connect. It's where they'll have the best chance of finding Clary and Alec, assuming they kept moving as planned.

Aside from the few opponents they come across, the journey there is blissfully uneventful―or perhaps worryingly so. While there are definitely some areas that attract more Splicers and hordes of Forsaken, than others, Magnus has learned that silence isn't necessarily a good thing in this place.

"Alright," Jace says after a while, once again consulting the map before putting it back in his pocket. "That should be it, up ahead."

Magnus nods, somewhat relieved.

"Good," he says. "Not long left to find Point Prometheus. We're running out of time."

"Optimist, huh?" Jace says flatly. "Don't worry, we'll get there."

"'Don't worry'?" Magnus says with a frown, turning to him. "That's your brilliant advice?"

Jace holds his gaze, his expression calm.

"Yeah," he says, nodding. His eyes grow a little more solemn. "We'll get there."

Magnus chooses to believe him. What else is he supposed to do?

It's when they're almost there, according to the map, that Jace suddenly slows to a stop. Magnus follows suit, eyes darting around the low-ceilinged, windowless hallway―it's pitch black aside from a single, crackling wall fixture, but he can't hear anything amiss. The constant sound of dripping water and electric humming has become commonplace, along with the intermittent, heavy, and somewhat unsettling creaking of the city's metal structures. It's all Magnus can pick up on, at the moment, and his senses aren't as sharp as he'd like.

Jace isn't looking at anything in particular, but there's definitely something there.

"What?" Magnus asks, somewhat redundantly. Jace frowns, hesitates.

"It's them," he says. "I think. It's Alec, I can feel him."

His tone turns a little hopeful, and Magnus can't help the sudden, comforting excitement that blooms in his chest.

"Where?" he asks without thinking.

"Close," Jace replies, his eyes still trained on the mouth of the corridor, up ahead. There's light beyond it, the blue kind Magnus that has come to associate with windows, in this place. "Really close."

With that, Jace starts moving again, and Magnus follows, their pace quicker and more determined than before.

They made the right call, heading this way. When they reach a large balcony at the end of the corridor and look down over its crumbling balustrade, the first thing they see is Alec, his bow drawn with an arrow nocked. He lowers it immediately.

"Oh my god," he says, the words little more than a relieved breath, while Clary gets up from where she sits.

On either side of the balcony are wide, ornate stairs, curved down toward the lower floor, and Jace quickly hurries down the one on the left. Magnus does the same, though he'll admit that his body feels increasingly heavy as he moves―not that he's about to show that too overtly.

Alec half-runs up the bottom few steps to meet them, and he reaches Jace first. He throws Magnus a glance before giving his brother a quick, tight hug. Clary isn't far behind, following Alec's example and briefly hugging Magnus with a heavy exhale.

"We've been waiting for ages," she says. When she pulls away, Magnus sees that scared concern and relief is written all over her face. "We thought maybe you wouldn't show. That you wouldn't find us."

"Of course, we would," Magnus says with almost flippant confidence, glad that Alec and Clary had the same idea of coming here, after all. "It just took a little while."

Clary smiles, gives Magnus's arm a squeeze, before turning to Jace and saying something. Magnus can't be sure what―he's not really paying attention anymore. Alec's eyes are on him, and everything else just falls away for a second or two.

"You're okay," Alec says, as though thinking out loud, saying it to reassure himself as he takes another step up the stairs. Though there isn't much height difference between them to begin with, Magnus standing a step higher brings them almost perfectly at eye-level. Alec's eyes are currently darting across Magnus's face, as though searching for signs of injury, his expression becoming more open in a matter of moments. "You're okay."

Magnus nods, but rather than voicing the same thoughts, he follows a sudden impulse and puts his arms around Alec instead. He holds him close, tightly, and Alec reciprocates with just as much relieved intensity. Magnus closes his eyes for a moment, sighs. Alec smells awful, he notices. Dirty and dank and sweaty, seaweed mixed with dried blood and demon ichor―but Magnus doesn't care. It's Alec, and he's okay, and that's all that matters.

The hug doesn't last longer than a few seconds, but it's somehow more than enough to have grounded Magnus by the time they pull apart.

"So what's the plan?" Clary asks, not wasting any time. Despite his relief at the momentary respite, Magnus appreciates that.

"The same," he says, tearing his eyes away from Alec's. "But with some added developments."

 

* * *

 

Alec keeps glancing at Magnus as they walk. The four of them are back together, which brings Alec nothing but utter, overwhelming relief―but Magnus is the one he can't stop glancing at. The one he can't stop paying attention to. Seeing Jace alright was everything, yes, but Alec already _knew_ he was alright; he could feel it. He knew he was on his way.

Magnus, not so much. With Magnus, all Alec had was hope. And some kind of faith in both Magnus's own abilities, as well as Jace's, to keep Magnus safe―but that was it. It was all Alec had. Which is why seeing Magnus come down those stairs punched the breath right out of him.

It was an odd sight. The dilapidated splendor of the scene, ocean-filtered light pouring from the domed glass ceiling and softly illuminating the grand stairs... In some way, it uncannily matched Magnus's own appearance in that moment. Expensive, well-crafted, breathtaking, its beauty somehow not at all diminished by its worn, sorry state.

Until that moment, Alec didn't really know how worried he'd been. Up until then, he had no idea just how much it would have killed him, if Magnus hadn't been okay.

It seems to take a little while for Magnus to notice Alec's frequent glances. Just in front of them, Jace and Clary are talking in low voices, and Alec gets the distinct impression that they're more relieved about seeing each other than they're letting on. It's nice. Jace seems comfortable around her in a more honest way than Alec usually sees. It's what makes him give himself permission to be a little distracted―because he has found that Magnus can be very distracting.

"Do I have something on my face?" Magnus suddenly asks, when Alec glances at him for what must be the fiftieth time, and Alec whips his gaze straight ahead instead. His own face feels oddly cold and warm at the same time, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. Hopefully, the low lighting hides it, but still. He can't be sure which is more embarrassing; being caught looking, or his own reaction to it.

"No," Alec says, shaking his head. He turns to Magnus. "Just glad everyone's alright."

He says it as casually as he can, and he hopes it's convincing. He adds a half-shrug for good measure, but then suddenly worries that it's _too_ casual, that Magnus will think he's not being sincere―

 _Stop overthinking it,_ he hears Isabelle's voice echo in his mind, a memory of one of the many occasions she has had to stop him from doing just that.

"Oh," Magnus says. "Well, me too."

He gives Alec a small smile, which Alec returns. The embarrassment changes into something warmer, more pleasant, dissipating across his skin in a decidedly comforting way.

There's a pause, the air between them suddenly a little thicker, something palpable lingering there, but Alec isn't quite sure he minds it. It's just... unfamiliar.

"At least we know one thing for certain now," Magnus says, his tone more flippant than a moment ago.

"And what's that?" Alec asks. Magnus inclines his head.

"There was no family, after all."

Alec frowns in surprise at the abrupt subject change, but can't help but grin when he turns to Magnus.

"Really?" Alec says. "You never know, Jonathan might be a family man."

"Good point," Magnus says, holding up his finger as though to correct Alec. "But I did also see an interesting poster as Jace and I strolled through the city. It was for a stage production, one of Cohen's, apparently, which was concisely titled, _Patrick & Moira._"

He gives Alec a pointed look, and Alec heaves a tired breath, can't help a somewhat dry, exasperated expression as he realizes what it means. That Jonathan stole those particular names from an obvious place, as though he wanted to see if they'd notice. Alec nods, a wry smile on his face.

"Who were supposedly blown to pieces back at Smuggler's Hideout," he says. "Of course. So that sub was empty, and Jonathan probably even blew it up, himself."

Magnus hums in agreement.

"He really went above and beyond, didn't he," he says.

"Why, though?" Alec says, shaking his head. "He could have made Jace do anything, have him just go straight to Valentine and kill him. Why all the theatrics? Why the whole Atlas-thing? Making up a family, all of it."

Magnus shrugs delicately, a casual gesture made to look somehow elegant.

"Maybe he was bored," he suggests dryly. "Wanted to play with his food for a while. I can imagine there's not much else to do down here, not for someone of his... proclivities. Also making us sympathize with him just added an extra layer of ease and amusement, I suppose."

"He made us think there was a way out," Alec adds.

"And I can imagine there would be some amusement in that, too," Magnus says. "Dangling hope in front of someone and then taking it away is a cruel thing. Makes you feel powerful. It definitely sounds like something Jonathan would do." He shakes his head, a look of disgust on his face. "He played with us, like toys. This whole time, and he just... _played._ "

Alec watches Magnus's face for a moment, glances at Clary and Jace, their expressions relaxed in a way that they all know won't last for much longer. The sudden surge of protectiveness Alec feels for all of them is strong.

"Then we'll make sure what you said comes true," he says, meeting Magnus's eye. "That when this is over, he ends up on the losing side."

Magnus's eyes linger on him for a while, before a slow smile shapes his lips. There's something sly about it, and it reminds Alec of the smirk he had when they first met in the bathysphere bay, before all of this happened. A small, determined glint in his brown eyes only reinforces it, and if Alec didn't know Magnus, he'd call it _intimidating._

"Sounds like a plan."

 

* * *

 

Though an elevator takes them all most of the way through the tower leading to Point Prometheus, its damaged state eventually forces Magnus and the others to take a winding staircase the rest of the way. And the moment they reach the top floor, their goal, with barely twenty minutes to spare, Magnus realizes why Madzie didn't want to come here. Why the Little Sisters "don't go there anymore".

It appears to be Rapture's genetic research center, responsible for the development of Plasmids and the harnessing of the demonic energy that makes them work. It also appears to be where the Big Daddies are created, as well as the Little Sisters themselves. Naming the two facilities in question _Failsafe Armored Escorts_ and  _Little Wonders Educational Facility,_ respectively, doesn't make them any less unpleasant. Not even the bright toy blocks, spelling out the name over the entrance to where the young warlock children are modified and conditioned, can't soften the place's imposing appearance.

It makes it all the more affective, seeing a group of small children huddled together in a corner of the low-ceilinged, but open, space.

Magnus approaches first, Alec, Jace, and Clary wisely hanging back to ensure that the young warlocks don't become even more frightened. It works rather well; Madzie recognizes him, as does the girl with shimmering fish-like scales, the first Little Sister they saved. Iris, however, seems less astute, and instinctively raises her hand to fend off the intruder with a fistful of crackling, red energy. It's only when she also recognizes Magnus that she lowers it, with an exhausted exhale and almost sad relief on her face.

"Magnus," she says, her voice little more than a breath. "I―"

"Are they all here?" Magnus interrupts, not wasting any time, eyes sweeping over the children.

"Yes," Iris says, while Alec and the others tentatively approach. The children look a little apprehensive, but less scared than they used to. Perhaps they know now that these particular shadowhunters mean them no harm. "There were a few still left, but I found them. They're ready."

Magnus nods.

"Good," he says, relieved.

"So, what now?" Jace asks, and Iris is the one who answers.

"We should stay put," she says. "This place is a maze once you enter any of the facilities, not to mention they're not exactly abandoned. And with Splicers already on their way, we need to stay together."

"They're coming here?" Jace says.

Iris gives him a tired, frustrated look.

"Yes," she says. "They were following us. I just barely held them off. And with Little Sisters here, cured or not, those creatures are just all the more eager to get to us."

Alec and Magnus share a look; apparently, Iris doesn't yet know that Jonathan is the one calling the shots, including controlling twice as many Splicers as he did before. Magnus vaguely wonders if he sent them. Not that it matters.

"Do we need to get any higher?" Clary asks Alec, who seems to have learned the layout of the city the best. He shakes his head.

"Don't think so, this is the highest point in the city." He nods at Iris. "Hate to say it, but I agree with her. Going any further is an unnecessary risk. Unless you need to get closer?" he adds, turning to Magnus.

"This should suffice," he says. His gaze falls on Iris. "How's your magic?"

"Nearly at full strength," she says, prompting a frown from Magnus.

"How?" he asks, aware of his own suspicious tone. "Last we spoke, you couldn't even leave your sanctuary."

Iris grits her teeth, presses her lips together.

"I found a way," she says tightly. It's only then that Magnus really pays attention to her appearance, her disheveled state at first having hid what now seems obvious. There are black lines, like veins, creeping up her skin from below her collar, spreading slowly across her hands, and Magnus doesn't need to ask to know what it is. While ADAM affects humans a certain way, it would undeniably affect warlocks, as well―but differently. In theory, it would enhance their powers, he supposes, but it would come at a cost.

The infected markings on Iris's skin somewhat proves his theory, that the distilled, modified energy would eventually become something more like poison for their kind. Eating away at them, quickly and from the inside out.

Magnus meets Iris's eye.

"What did you do?" he says, his voice low, with a trace of something like anger and sadness.

"What I had to," Iris says evenly. "It was the only way to get the strength I needed to cure the last of the little ones. And to protect them, coming here." She looks down at the dozen or so children crowding around her, their expressions fearful, but somewhat hopeful, now that they've been promised a way home. "They won't need me anymore, after this."

Magnus holds Iris's gaze when it meets his, and sees the sincerity in her determined expression. He can't quite decide if this redeems her for her past actions, as horrible as they've been, but he supposes it's definitely an honest attempt. And given the circumstances, that's all that can be asked for.

"Very well," he says, choosing to respect Iris's decision; there's no turning back now, anyway. "Then, let's get to work."

Magnus takes a deep breath, looks around, before he closes his eyes to reach out with his senses, searching for the wards' closest point. It isn't difficult―he can feel the complex barrier surrounding the city, so close to this particular building that he swears he could reach out and touch it if he stood on the roof. But it also reminds him of just how impenetrable the barrier is. It's not particularly encouraging, but this is the best shot they have.

Magnus puts his hands together, letting his palms hover just an inch apart, and gathers up the particular weaving strings of magic needed for this particular spell, mouthing the right words under his breath. When he opens his eyes, something like a web takes shape between his hands as he slowly pulls them further apart, and he takes a breath, before letting the web dissipate entirely. He feels it release, feels it invisibly move, sinking into the surface of the wards above.

"That's it?" Jace asks after a few moments, confused and underwhelmed. Magnus sighs.

"That's it," he says. Jace frowns, as though considering whether or not to push further.

"So," he says, apparently settling on in fact pushing, "what does it do?"

"Think of it as erosion," Magnus explains. "The spell slowly eats away at the wards, weakens them in that particular spot."

"Will it be enough?" Alec asks, and Magnus turns to him.

"Enough to break through?" he says. "No. The barrier is too intricate, too layered. It's why it's been pointless to use it before, the wards would have just continuously repaired themselves as any damage was done. But with Ragnor and I using the spell from both sides, while also mutually opening a Portal? Probably."

"'Probably' is good enough for me," Jace says, then whips around at the sound of commotion traveling up the stairs. He emits a frustrated sigh, drawing his seraph blade. "That'll be the Splicers, I guess."

"We'll hold them off," Alec says, turning to Clary and Magnus, eyes lingering on Magnus in particular. "Get us home."

Magnus gives him a nod.

"Good luck," he says. Alec tightens his jaw, as though holding back from saying, or doing, something else.

"You, too."

With that, he and Jace leave, heading back the way they all came, and Magnus lets out an exhale as they disappear from sight, down the stairs. He turns to Iris, Clary standing by with her blade drawn, as a line of defense.

"We've only got a few minutes," Magnus says. "Then it's time. Are you up for this?"

Iris gives him a scathing look, one he remembers from much longer ago, when she really was at the top of her game.

"Please," she says, and Magnus supposes that's answer enough. He rubs his hands together, centering himself as best he can to summon up the magic he needs.

A loud creak catches his attention, and he turns toward the sound, somewhere behind him. Clary reacts as well, her expression turning both surprised and vigilant, as she and Magnus watch a pair of heavy, metal doors push open. It reveals what looks like a destroyed museum inside, dark with a bluish hue, rubble and expensive, overturned exhibits littering the floor. But the person opening the doors, pushing them apart with both hands and a languid kind of strength, is what holds Magnus's attention.

It's a man. A man with broad shoulders and brown hair, suspenders over a white shirt, and the distinct air of someone more humble and practical, than flashy. Trustworthy, kind.

Magnus recognizes him. He recognizes him from the posters plastered all over the walls of the city, with a sympathetic yet strong face, accompanied by inspiring words and eloquent battle cries. Magnus recognizes him from Smuggler's Hideout, looking up at him from a metal grid floor below, with urgent vulnerability in his expression. He knows him as an abstract, strong figure behind which hundreds of people rallied to fight for freedom. And thus, even with all the horrible secrets and truths Magnus now knows about Atlas, seeing him in the flesh, so close, is strangely comforting.

It doesn't last for long. Not when the man's expression goes from calm to something more sly _,_ as he takes a step forward.

"Nice to see you made it," he says, the familiar, Irish accent rolling off his tongue. "And here I thought you'd be fish food by now. Full of surprises, ain't ya?"

No one replies, instead just keep their eyes trained on him as he slowly approaches. Someone they used to consider an ally. He doesn't seem to be in any rush at all, and Magnus wonders why he even bothers with the act, anymore. Atlas's true identity is no longer a secret, and Jonathan himself made sure of that.

Magnus turns to Iris, who gives him a tight look, and nods.

"I'll take care of this," she says in a low voice, anger and determination lacing her tone. Only her devotion to the children is what has Magnus convinced, and he only needs to distract Jonathan for a little while, until Jace and Alec return. Iris can open the Portal herself, and will only need Magnus once the connection with the other side has been established. Without it, and without their joined forces, the Portal may end up no more than a shallow pool.

When Magnus turns back to Jonathan, the man's gaze drifts to somewhere behind him and Clary, head tilting as he observes Iris protectively shield the children. Then his eyes drift back, lingering on Magnus for a moment, before passing over to his sister. As he does it, both Magnus and Clary slowly move away from where Iris means to open the Portal, drawing Jonathan's attention. Though their intention must be obvious, he seems to humor them. Much like how he must have been up here the whole time, even since before they arrived at Point Prometheus, watching, waiting. But it doesn't matter―what matters is keeping him occupied, and he seems too indulgent to end this game, quite yet.

Jonathan sighs.

"I'm gonna miss this face," he says sadly, maintaining the false accent, before he pulls a stele from his pocket. Magnus is barely even surprised when he swipes it over a rune on his forearm, and his skin ripples like scales to fold over and reveal paler skin underneath. The ripples cover the rest of him in a matter of moments, and Magnus pulls back when Jonathan's own self is revealed.

At first, Magnus thinks it might be blood. The consistency of it is thick and dark, oozing rather than running down Jonathan's face, staining his lips and drenching his the collar of his shirt. Then Magnus realizes that it's black, rather than red. Like tar, staining the shadowhunter's blond hair and spreading down along his throat, spilling from his mouth as he opens it to speak.

"I would never stoop so low, normally," Jonathan says, his voice even, but somehow easily carrying across the room, the accent back to what Magnus remembers hearing in Valentine's office. But it sounds odd, this time, as though the black fluid itself mingles with the crisply enunciated words. "To infect myself. Become something wretched and foul, like everything else in this place." He slowly steps forward, mouth tilting up slightly, in something like a smile. His teeth stand out as unnaturally bright against the dark, diseased ooze surrounding them. "But it seems I have a rather convenient predisposition for it."

He takes another step, keeps his eyes on Magnus and Clary with a somewhat dazed expression. There's something hungry about it, though. Something off. He only looks away to bend down and pick up a syringe off the floor, the glass cylinder stained with black and red. Scattered around, Magnus notices, are several empty ones.

"You see," Jonathan says, something almost slurred about his words, "humans aren't really fit for demonic enhancements. Shadowhunter, or otherwise. As I'm sure you've learned, by now. But for me―" He unceremoniously sticks the needle into his arm, inhaling sharply and deeply as he injects the ADAM― "it's quite a beautiful thing."

He closes his eyes, drops the syringe once its contents have been emptied into his bloodstream, and Magnus sees telltale, black veins snake their way up from the entry point. It's clear that Jonathan has injected himself several times already, all in the past hour at most, and it looks like it must be terribly painful. His skin looks infected in places, festering. But he seems to feel nothing but bliss, momentarily lost in the sensation of the drug.

Clary leans closer to Magnus, keeping her eyes on Jonathan.

"What'll that do to him?" she asks in a low voice, tense and vigilant.

"I would say, 'I have no idea'," Magnus replies at the same volume, "but given his demon blood... Nothing good." He turns to Clary. "We've seen what Plasmids and ADAM does to people without it. Imagine what they would do to someone whose body is a better match, especially a shadowhunter."

Clary meets his eye for only a moment, before looking back at their enemy. Jonathan would have been handsome, Magnus vaguely thinks, without the gory mess all over his face, undoubtedly a nasty side-effect of the overdose of injections. Despite it, though, he can imagine that the prettiness of Jonathan's features couldn't have inspired people the way Atlas's did. Atlas looks friendly, strong, honorable, broad-shouldered and imposing in all the right ways. Magnus understands why Jonathan picked that particular face for his act.

"I've never tried this Plasmid stuff before, actually, never used ADAM, " Jonathan says, opening his eyes, the solid black of them sharper than a moment ago. "Let's see what tricks I've been given."

Without warning, he throws what appears to be a bolt of ice, freezing an overturned leather chair solid when Magnus quickly gets out of the attack's path. Jonathan makes a disappointed sound.

"Well, that's annoying," he says, taking a few, slow steps forward. He throws another bolt, and another, both of which miss their targets when Magnus throws up a deflecting, magic shield in front of himself and Clary. He feels the jarring impact, but doesn't let it shake him.

"We need to keep him busy," Magnus says under his breath, but loudly enough for Clary to hear him. "Keep him away from the kids, just hold him off until backup gets here."

"I think they're pretty busy, too," Clary says, before ducking to the floor and picking up what appears to be a shard of glass, remnants of a broken glass exhibit displaying what looks like the skeleton of a massive angler fish. She hurls the shard at Jonathan, who lets out a pained shout that sounds just on the edge of inhuman, as it hits his shoulder.

He seems to say something, growling out the words with fierce rage, but Magnus can't make them out. The black, tar-like poison vomits out of his mouth, garbling any coherent sound. He grabs the glass shard and yanks it out of his shoulder, blood immediately gushing and mingling with the black ooze. He tries to raise his injured arm, but it seems pointless. Even as he tries to throw yet another, freezing attack, all it does is spread the cold across his skin, making his lower arm blacken and freeze. The sound he makes is frustrated, furious, but his eyes are frantic when he focuses them on his sister, and Magnus

"I can't let you just _leave_ ," he says. The words are clearer now, but only slightly. There's a sneer in them, though still delivered with an otherwise contrastingly calm expression that just makes it all the more unsettling. "Not with them." He gestures with his unharmed arm in the direction of Iris and the children. "I need those girls to keep this city's filth obedient and controlled."

"Maybe don't require little kids to do your dirty work," Clary says, full of disdain, and Jonathan grits his teeth.

"You should stay, too," he says, and his tone actually softens for a moment, mismatching his currently grotesque appearance. "We could be together, like we're supposed to. Now that our father's gone."

Clary's lip curls in disgust.

"I'd rather die," she says. Jonathan has a moment of disappointed hurt in his expression, before it hardens.

"That can be arranged," he says, his voice once again more of a snarl, as he starts walking toward them again. His gait is determined, fearless, even in his drugged-up, pained state. "I'd be happy to arrange that for all of you, myself." He makes a choked sound, face twisting in pain as he grabs the shoulder of his now useless arm. "You come in here, thinking you can just tear down what I've built. Take what's mine, what _I_ deserve."

"Last I checked," Clary says, "Valentine built this place. Not you."

Jonathan's voice morphs into something like an angry growl, face contorting into a mask of rage.

" _I_ wanted to save you," he practically spits at Clary, any smooth, calm eloquence gone, as he comes even closer. "And you―"

A sudden jolt stops him in his tracks, and Magnus looks over to find the source. There's a young warlock standing there, her expression afraid but determined, and she launches another bolt of energy at Jonathan. It's not very strong, but it seems to take him by surprise, enough to knock him down to his knees. Not that he stays there for very long.

"You disgusting little―" he snarls, but is cut off by another bolt, this time from another young warlock behind him. She looks just as terrified as the first one, but angry, and Magnus notes that more cured Little Sisters are slowly making their way closer, as though bolstered by the others.

The loud, telltale _whoosh_ of a Portal being opened makes Magnus whip around. Iris is unsteady on her feet, just barely able to pry it open, but it's enough. Meanwhile, Jace appears in the periphery of Magnus's vision, emerging from the stairs and immediately assessing the situation, deciding to back up Clary and the warlock children. He's covered in blood―more than he was before―and Magnus refrains from asking about Alec. He must be on his way, he tells himself, perhaps using his long-range fighting skills to keep the Splicers below from getting in. He can handle himself.

Magnus throws Clary a glance. Jace's eyes are now trained on Jonathan, and Clary gives Magnus a nod as if to say, _go, we've got this._

Magnus doesn't waste any time. He trusts Clary, Jace, and the warlock girls to keep Jonathan at bay, while he joins Iris to strengthen the Portal. The moment he reaches her and summons up the magic he needs, however, he immediately feels just how little of it is left. As if what he has is just enough to keep him standing. Still, he uses it, grits his teeth as he joins his magic with Iris's to push the Portal wider, piercing through the barriers around the city. Even through all the noise, mental and otherwise, he can feel someone responding on the other side. Ragnor, doing his best to stabilize the volatile Portal being ripped open.

"The little ones," Iris says, the words said in a harsh exhale. "Get them through."

Magnus turns to her. The black veins on her skin have spread further up across her face and enveloped her hands, her eyes now bloodshot and wide. It's clear that she has already pushed herself beyond her limits. Magnus directs his attention back to the others, blinks to clear his vision, black spots blocking his field of vision. He can hear a strange pounding in his ears, perhaps his own heartbeat. It's getting hard to focus, to tell what is what.

What he can tell, through it all, is that Jonathan seems to have been subdued. He's on the floor, quiet and unmoving, and Magnus allows himself a small breath of relief.

"Jace," he calls, his voice weaker than he expected. Jace is closer than Clary, and hears Magnus all the same. He whips around, eyes widening as he sees the state of both Magnus and Iris. "The children."

It's all Magnus can muster, but it's enough. He closes his eyes for a moment, but he can hear Jace and Clary gathering up the young warlocks and herding them toward the Portal.

It happens quickly. No more than a couple of girls make it through before a sharp, cold bolt slices through the air, hitting Iris square in the chest. Magnus inhales sharply, can feel the Portal somehow become _heavier,_ just as she collapses to the floor, a look of surprise on her face. The loss of her magic, in death, is palpable, and Magnus screws his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to compensate.

Meanwhile, Jonathan is moving. Magnus only looks over long enough to see his mutilated, broken form drag itself up from the floor, spewing black pestilence as he goes. He somehow manages to get up on his feet, his mouth opening wide in a snarling screech as his pace quickens, carrying him fast across the small distance that separates him from his prey.

He makes it halfway, before an arrow hits him right between the eyes.

It stops him in his tracks, Magnus flinching at the suddenness of the impact, before Jonathan's body falls to the floor with a heavy _thud._ Magnus watches it for a moment, half-expecting it to move again. It doesn't, and he instead turns from Jonathan's glazed-over expression, to Alec. His bow is still poised in front of him, but he quickly lowers it. He grits his teeth, observes Jonathan's―now most definitely dead―body for no more than a second.

"Come on," he says then, turning around and shouldering his bow. "We gotta go."

Jace and Clary, having shielded the girls from the oncoming, potential attack, go back to ushering a few more of them through the volatile Portal. Its structure is not as stable and safe as it should be, and Magnus is relieved when the children's passage to the other side is successful. He can feel it. He can also feel his legs finally give out from under him, slamming his knees against the cold, hard floor and making him wince. He barely notices any pain, though; everything seems blurry and spinning, all of a sudden. At this point, he's doing his best just to stay conscious.

"Magnus." Alec's voice is familiar as he crouches down in front of him. "Hey."

Magnus manages to look up at Alec, noticing Clary and Jace gathering up the last few girls behind him. There's blood on his face, but none of it seems to be his own.

"I―" Magnus says, but isn't sure what he means to say, so he stops there.

"That's all of them," Jace says, out of breath but seemingly alright. "Clary just went through, too."

"Good," Alec says over his shoulder. "Go."

"No, I'm not―" Jace starts, but Alec cuts him off.

"Jace, go," he says harshly. Magnus can't hear Jace's reply, but judging by the distinct sound of someone stepping through a Portal, it seems he heeded Alec's words. A new wave of relief crashes over Magnus; everyone is safe. They all made it back home.

"Magnus, come on," Alec says, reminding Magnus that he's still there. His hands are on Magnus's upper arms, and Magnus realizes that it's all that's keeping him upright, at this point. "We gotta go."

Magnus means to, he really does. But he can't seem to stop, can't seem to stem whatever flood of energy he's managed to unleash in his attempt to make up for the lost power a fellow warlock provided. It's oddly painful. But as long as he can keep the Portal open for a few more seconds or so, it's fine.

"I can't―" Magnus says, but it's little more than a breath. He feels half-asleep, absently aware of the whirring of the Portal, all other sights and sounds just blurring together into something rather like a dream. The Portal's golden, vacuum glow is both comforting and annoying compared to the surrounding colder hues of blue and black and green. He feels Alec's hands on him, holding on tightly, can hear his voice somewhere in the distance.

"Magnus, we..." Alec's sentence doesn't trail off, and Magnus knows it. It just seems to be all he can hear. Fragments, like tuning a radio, the sounds coming in and out of focus amidst the static. Impossible to make out without immense and pinpointed focus.

Something warm against his face pulls his gaze up. He finds Alec, his eyes wide and determined, his hand cupping Magnus's jaw.

"We have to go," he says steadily. "You're gonna have to move, okay?"

 _Move?,_ Magnus thinks.  No. No, he can't do that. He can't. Magnus is pretty sure he doesn't say it out loud, but Alec seems to hear it anyway, if his suddenly desperate expression is anything to go by. He says something back, but Magnus can't hear it over the Portal's whirring and the ringing in his ears. He blinks, raises his hand to grasp Alec's wrist, in a grip much weaker than he intends.

"It's okay," he says, though he can't even seem to hear it, himself. "It's okay."

He closes his eyes, just needs to rest them for a little while. Everyone's gotten out, he tells himself. Everyone is back home, it's okay, he has done what he came here to do. He lets that comforting heaviness he's been keeping at bay finally wash over him, with a sigh. Although, somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels vaguely disappointed that he won't be seeing Alec again. Then he decides that it's a small price to pay, in the scheme of things.

But it is a shame. He would have liked to see him again.

 

* * *

 

Isabelle will never quite get used to seeing people she cares about get hurt. She realizes that that's just the life of a shadowhunter, an existence full of peril and death, as well as fearless strength. But it's still not easy.

Though, she supposes it could be worse. As it is, Jace and Alec are both fast asleep in the infirmary of the Institute, recovering quickly after returning from their ill-fated mission just a few hours ago. While Maryse has taken to watching over her sons for the time being―she insists it's for practical reasons, but Izzy knows better―her daughter heads outside for a breath of air. It's been an intense couple of days, and Izzy can feel the tension of it in her shoulders, tight and uncomfortable, though it gets better the further away she gets from the Infirmary.

Her family is home. She did all she could do, and it was enough.

The sun has fully risen by the time Izzy makes her way out through the heavy front doors of the Institute, and she blinks against the harsh light. It softens quickly, giving her a sense of calm more than anything, allowing her tired eyes to adjust―enough to see a familiar shape on the steps of the building.

"Hey," she says, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. Maia looks over her shoulder, a small smile taking shape as she spots Isabelle.

"Hey," she says. She gets up from her seat, brushing her clothes off a little as she glances away with something like awkwardness in her expression. It passes quickly. Izzy has a hard time imagining her being awkward, to begin with. "How're they doing?"

Maia gestures at the Institute, and Izzy folds her arms.

"Good," she says. "Sleeping. But they'll be fine." Maia nods, and Izzy hesitates. "Why are you still here?"

"Oh, that's how it is?" Maia says, eyebrows raised.

"No, I didn't―" Izzy starts, shaking her head, but Maia cuts her off with a laugh.

"Kidding," she says, her smile so bright that Izzy can't help but mirror it. Then Maia pauses, her smile disappearing. "I guess I just wanted to check on you. See how _you're_ doing."

She seems a little hesitant as she says it, and Izzy just blinks, a little confused both by the gesture and by the way it makes her chest feel warm.

"I'm good, too," she says. "Thank you, by the way. For helping earlier."

Maia nods, and Izzy thinks about how readily Maia helped get Alec and Jace back to the Institute once they returned from Rapture. She really didn't have to, but she did anyway. And then she stayed. To make sure Izzy was okay.

"No big deal," Maia says, putting her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

Izzy doesn't reply to that, instead just holds Maia's gaze until they both look away. The several seconds of silence that follow are a little tense, maybe awkward, strangely expectant. Izzy swallows.

"Hey, you wanna go for a walk, or something?" she says, and Maia looks back at her. Izzy shrugs. "I could use some fresh air. And a break."

Maia seems a little surprised, but the slow smile that softens her face shows that she's not negatively so. She nods.

"Sounds good."

 

* * *

 

Alec shouldn't feel nervous when he knocks on the door to Magnus's loft. This has already become something of a habit in the past few days, and he should be way past nervous, by now. And yet that nervous awkwardness bubbles up and mixes with the concern, the worry, the anticipation―even more so when Catarina Loss opens the door and doesn't look even remotely surprised.

"Mr. Lightwood," she says, with a small smile and a sigh. "Please, come on in."

She steps back and lets Alec inside, before closing the door behind him.

"Thanks," Alec says. He glances over at the lounge area, but can't see most of it from here. He swallows, hesitates. "How is he?"

He turns back to Catarina, takes care to keep his tone respectful and not too pushy. She's under no illusions of why he's here, but Alec still doesn't want to intrude. Thankfully, Catarina just smiles, a look of exasperation on her face. She looks almost _fond._

"Still sleeping," she says. "Just like when you were here last time. Eight hours ago."

There's a hint of playful amusement in her pointed tone, and Alec appreciates it. The first few times he stopped by, she seemed more annoyed, than anything, but she seems to be warming up to him.

All the same, her comment makes his face heat up a bit, and he looks down as Catarina makes her way past him and into the apartment. She doesn't mention his reaction, and he appreciates that, too.

"So, no change?" he asks anyway, following her.

"None," Catarina confirms, and Alec rubs his fingers together, lingering in the doorway to the lounge. He glances over at the closed door he knows leads to Magnus's bedroom.

"You sure?" he asks, turning back to Catarina, who has sat down on a couch and is tidying up among the several bottles and jars on the coffee table. She looks like she's in the middle of making a potion, or a spell―Alec can't really tell. "It's just, it's been fo―"

"Four days," Catarina cuts him off, looking up. "I know. I'm well aware."

Alec licks his lips, and can't seem to stay quiet, for once.

"That's a long time, though," he says. "Right?"

Catarina exhales, straightens in her seat, abandoning her work for a moment.

"Alec," she says, holding Alec's gaze. They don't know each other, but she sounds considerably more sympathetic than a moment ago. "What you all went through down there, it was rough. And as powerful as Magnus is, that power is not an inexhaustible source. He pushed himself just getting there, and even more so to get back home, and I can't imagine what he had to do _while_ there. That kind of strain takes a toll." She pauses, her expression softening. "But he'll be fine. He just needs time, and rest, and he'll be himself again. Believe it or not, he's been through worse. I'm not worried, and you shouldn't be either."

 _I'm not worried,_ Alec wants to say, but he doesn't. He tried saying that the first three times he visited since they got back, and the more he said it the less Catarina seemed to believe him. Instead, he just keeps his eyes on hers, and nods. Satisfied, she returns to the myriad of ingredients in front of her, and Alec doesn't bother her by asking what it's all for.

Alec looks over at the balcony doors, currently open and letting in a pleasant breeze, the long curtains twisting softly in the wind.

The doors were closed when Alec and the others Portaled in, in front of them, the light outside just past dawn rather than late afternoon, unlike now. Alec remembers half-carrying Magnus when he came through, feeling like his own legs would fold underneath him at any moment. As soon as the Portal closed, they did, his knees landing with a soft thud against the carpet, Magnus already unconscious by his side.

He remembers relieved voices and low chatter, Isabelle― _what is she even doing here?_ he thought―rushing to him and throwing her arms around his shoulders. He half-heartedly hugged her back, still dazed and disoriented and blinking at the sight of so many people around him; young warlock girls along with familiar faces and complete strangers. Then he looked down at Magnus, who wasn't moving at all. His skin was cold and clammy, and Alec felt dizzy, a sudden, panicked vice around his insides―until Catarina, this stranger, assured him that Magnus was alive. He was alive, and he would be fine.

Despite having heard that several times over the past few days, Alec can't help but worry. He himself spent barely a day recovering, before checking in on Magnus; he was still very much unconscious, in bed with a high fever. The next day, he looked a little better, but that could have been Alec's wishful thinking. Next visit, some color was coming back into his cheeks, and the next, he looked more like he was peacefully sleeping rather than fighting off some internal assault. Each visit, Alec likes to think Magnus looks like he's getting better. But he still hasn't woken up.

Alec lingers where he stands, tries to bring himself to leave. Instead, his eyes drift over to Magnus's bedroom door, and Catarina emits something like a suffering sigh.

"Go ahead," she says, and Alec throws her a glance. She hasn't looked up, and he takes the permission, finally moving from the spot and making his way across the lounge. He feels a little embarrassed that he's somehow so easy to read, all of a sudden; only half his visits have involved checking in on Magnus personally, but this woman can apparently still tell what he's thinking.

He doesn't bother knocking this time; Magnus has been unconscious for each visit, after all, and in no shape to answer or even notice someone at the door. Alec expects this time to be no different. As such, he doesn't expect to see Magnus not only awake when he opens the door, but sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of pants.

Magnus looks up, his hair a mess and surprise written on his face, and Alec is caught entirely unawares by the way his own heart somersaults at the sight.

"Sorry," he blurts. "I thought you'd be sleeping, I― I'll just―"

He starts closing the door again, but Magnus stops him.

"No, it's okay," he says, somewhat hastily, raising his hand. "Please, stay."

Alec stops, hesitates for a moment, before stepping into the room. He keeps his eyes on Magnus's, one hand still on the door, and with a nod from Magnus, he pulls it shut.

The whole situation suddenly feels very private, as several seconds of silence stretches on between them. Alec swallows.

"You, uh―" he eventually says, gesturing at Magnus. "You look like you got your energy back."

His voice somehow comes out breathy and low, and he's not sure why, or what it means. Not that he doesn't realize, as he stands here, why he's been visiting a very unconscious Magnus several times over the past few days. It's for the same reason he instantly trusted him, back in Rapture. The same reason he worried whenever Magnus was out of sight, and why he couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind when they finally left.

He thinks he knew it back then, too. It just took Magnus nearly dying in his arms for him to really understand _what_ , exactly, it was he knew. What he felt. _Feels._

Magnus gives him a tired smile, but he still looks happy to see him. Surprised, but happy.

"I'm getting there," he says, slowly standing up. Alec is relieved to see he at least _looks_ unharmed, judging by the smooth, unmarred skin of his torso. Then he makes a point of not looking at his torso―his very fit, appealing torso―and instead turns his gaze to some random spot on the wall. Magnus, if he notices, doesn't mention it.

"Good," Alec says, locking his hands together behind his back, as if by habit. As though this is some kind of uncertain situation that needs grounding. "Catarina said it was a little touch and go, for a while."

Magnus hums in agreement, and Alec allows his gaze to linger on that strong back as Magnus gets a blue silk robe, hanging on the wall. He smoothly puts it on, with more grace and flourish than should somehow be allowed for something so simple, though he doesn't tie it. As such, his chest and stomach are still mostly bare when he turns back to Alec, pulling Alec's attention downward once again. _Damn it._

"I can imagine," Magnus says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretches the muscles there. "But a hot bath and a drink, and I'm certain I'll be good as new. And after a proper meal."

Alec hesitates for a moment, but can't help the words from tumbling out.

"Like a steak?" he asks, with only the slightest bit of apprehension. Magnus pauses in his stretching, gives Alec a surprised look. For a moment, Alec worries he misread something, but then Magnus's mouth curves into a small smile.

"Maybe," he says, dropping his hands to his sides as he walks over to Alec, who's still standing by the door. Alec swallows.

"I mean," he says, trying to sound casual, "I remember you said you knew a place. Might be a good idea."

Magnus nods slowly, still moving towards him.

"That, I did," he says. "And I remember suggesting I'd take you there, sometime." Alec nods, humming the affirmative, and Magnus gestures airily with his hand as he continues. "So, if I were to ask you now... Would you like to go with me, sometime?"

Alec's heart suddenly feels very intrusive, thudding against his ribs. It's uncomfortable, but still oddly pleasant. Alec opens his mouth to reply, but instead ends up half-smiling and cocking his head as he glances away.

"Well," he says, eyebrows slightly raised. "I guess I kind of have to now, right? Need to see for myself."

When he looks back at Magnus, Magnus is standing right in front of him, closer than would normally be appropriate. There's an amused―maybe even _charmed_ ―smile on his face, eyes crinkling as he watches Alec fumble. He nods with a soft _mhm,_ his shoulders swaying ever so slightly, and d _amn it,_ he nearly died and just slept for half a week, he has no business being so effortlessly charming right now.

Alec takes a deep breath, the action suddenly difficult with the way his pulse seems to be skipping beats. He suddenly realizes how intimate this is; standing in Magnus's bedroom, alone, Magnus only half-dressed and Alec unusually bare with no weapons except a thigh holster strapped to his leg. He thinks of everything they went through in Rapture, and a sense of relief mingles together with disbelief at them even standing here like this, at all.

"I'm really glad you're okay," Alec blurts, the words somewhat breathless. There's a brief moment of surprise in Magnus's expression at the sudden honesty, but he quickly recovers.

"Me, too," he says, his tone mirroring Alec's. "I really wanted to take you to that restaurant. Or anywhere, really."

Alec breathes a weak laugh at the attempted flirting or humor, or whatever that was, and something brightens in Magnus's eyes.

"Yeah," Alec says. He licks his lips. "Yeah, I― I'd like that."

He's not even quite sure what's happening anymore, what they're talking about, or why. Magnus is just standing really close, and suddenly, Alec can't stop noticing how amazing he smells, now that the constant atmosphere of grime and blood and seawater is nowhere to be found. How flattering the sunlight is as it falls gently on his face from the window, small specks of dust dancing in the air. He looks all soft and warm and sleepy. There's a certain curve to his mouth, and there's a certain thrill to seeing his gaze momentarily drop to Alec's lips.

"Okay," Magnus says absently. "It's a date."

Alec nods, but any words he plans on saying evaporate in favor of action, as he instead leans in and meets Magnus halfway in a kiss.

It's surprising, yet neither of them seems that surprised. There's the slightest moment of hesitation, of uncertainty, as though they both wonder if this was a bad idea―before they quickly decide that it wasn't.

Every muscle in Alec's body seems to uncoil, as though having held days' worth of tension he wasn't quite aware of. The fabric of Magnus's robe is silky against his fingers, and Alec isn't even sure when he moved his hand to Magnus's lower back to feel it, in the first place. Maybe as he kissed him, maybe before―his hands just seem to be moving on their own, and Magnus doesn't seem to mind. His own hands find their way to the back of Alec's neck and to his waist, pulling him closer and inhaling slowly as the kiss deepens, making the hairs rise on Alec's arms.

As far as first kisses go―not just a first for the two of them, but for Alec, his first ever―it's not bad. In fact, Alec finds himself feeling dizzy, the taste of Magnus's mouth giving him a headrush, the shape of him underneath Alec's hands an exquisitely unique sensation. Alec wants more of it, _all_ of it. But for now, he refrains.

When he pulls away just far enough for their lips to no longer be connected, Alec exhales, eyes still closed. He can feel Magnus's warm breath against his face, and he tightens his grip around him, keeps him close. It's odd, being so relieved and grateful over the safety of someone he didn't even know a week ago.

"Hm," Magnus says, a thoughtful sound that makes Alec open his eyes and pull away a little further.

"What?" he says, softly but with the smallest sense of worry that Magnus maybe didn't enjoy the kiss at all.

"Nothing," Magnus says lightly, meeting Alec's eye. There's something warm and playful in his gaze. "Just thinking that maybe I should have a brush with death more often. If this is what it leads to."

Alec breathes a laugh, which Magnus mirrors.

"I think we can manage without," Alec says. "From now on."

Magnus's smile widens, and he gently smoothes his thumb over Alec's stubbled chin, eyes falling to his lips.

"I like the sound of that," he says, as he goes in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! Thanks for sticking with this story, I hope you've enjoyed it at least half as much as I've enjoyed writing it (as I've said before, this has been a lot of fun for me to do). I'm hugely grateful for the encouragement and love this fic has received, and it's really been great, so thank you so much for that <3
> 
> Visit me on [the twitters](https://twitter.com/lemonoclefox) and please yell at me if you want to, using _#btseafic_. Also, writing stuff while irl adulting can be hard work, so if you feel like helping me out, check out [my tumblr](http://lemonoclefox.tumblr.com/bts) ( _#btseafic_ works there, too) and maybe treat me to a cup of coffee through the button I've got there?  <3 Thanks


End file.
